


Oasis Shakedown

by MyOverwatchHasEnded (Regularity)



Series: Overwatch: Mei Missions [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2020-11-28 03:42:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20959880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regularity/pseuds/MyOverwatchHasEnded
Summary: Mei-Ling Zhou and her team go on her third mission for the fledgling new Overwatch, this time to the technological mecca of Oasis on a fact-finding mission. Mei is worried that her friendship with Fareeha is keeping Fareeha from her personal goals of being a leader.Mei is also unprepared to find out that Talon already has its namesake deep into the Ministries of the city.Fareeha "Pharah" Amari, Brigitte "Squire" Lindholm, and Angela "Mercy" Ziegler round out the team, with a few surprise characters along the way!This story is coming to an end in the next month or so. As I finish up the current mission, Oasis Shakedown, I will be filing this under a pseud and moving on to new projects. I love this story and the world it comes from, but I still struggle with any kind of support for Blizzard after their anti-Hong Kong stance that they didn't back down from.





	1. It's Good To Get Out Of The Lab

_ Entry 53 - February 20th, 2076 _

_ The downtime has been nice, with Tracer and Mercy running missions more locally, but we have exhausted all the research potential I can access remotely. We are no closer to an answer and I believe Winston is losing patience with my lack of forward momentum. _

_ He approved the mission, though, and I suppose that is fortune enough. He is clearly upset at being stuck in HQ for this one, but the Strike Commander cannot always be in the field. _

_ I thought a long time about who to bring for this mission, and ultimately decided it was best to bring interested parties: Angela and Brigitte hope we have time to visit the academies. _

_ We will be in Oasis, the bastion of learning and advancement. I can only hope our proximity to a city will keep combat to a minimum, but it never hurts to bring a backup. _

_ That’s definitely why I’m bringing Reeha: just in case. _

_ I have never been to Oasis. It was just beginning its journey when I went under cryo… how much the world has changed in so short a time. _

There was a dizzying number of checks on the flight, the crew, and the reason for their visit, but finally the dropship is given clearance to approach the city. 

Oasis. Mei has seen the city of technology in news reports and in a docudrama about the sudden rise of prominence, but these pale in comparison to the real thing as they fly in at skyscraper level. Brigitte yawns at the controls, and Angela busies herself with contacting her past colleagues and acquaintances who have taken up residence here.

Mei and Fareeha, though, stand at the dropship hangar door in the deployment deck, watching the drones and sky speeders dart about, zooming into and out of buildings at ground level as well as loading and unloading at places along the taller buildings. Sky docks and sky high parking garages. The place is a marvel of efficiency and technology, and Mei jealously wonders what she could do with such a budget.

Solve this climate mystery in a matter of days, no doubt.

Fareeha nudges Mei with an elbow, pointing out their destination. “There is the university. Largest collection of data and printed material on the planet.”

Mei’s insides quiver at the thought. All that knowledge, at her fingertips… 

Fareeha laughs. “Whoever makes you feel the way you just felt about books will be lucky indeed.”

“Stop making me blush.” She chuckles uncomfortably, but it’s not the same. “I read about this place, but it’s something to see it in person.”

The dropship approaches a landing zone, and Brigitte pings the ship’s intercom. “We’re getting a redirect, boss.”

“We can’t land at the university?” Mei asks, walking up the steps to the bridge. Fareeha shrugs and goes to get into her flight suit. In the time since the last mission, she and Brigitte have worked out some kinks in the jet propulsion, enabling her to use the same module for speed and for mobility. Hopefully they won’t need the firepower.

Mei is hopeful of something else regarding Fareeha, but she doesn’t want to jinx it just yet. The woman said she was frustrated serving under people, and yet she has continued to do just that. 

Brigitte puts the tower chatter on speaker, and it drones a robotic, non-omnic voice: “Unspecified research team, proceed to Ministry Headquarters. Repeat, proceed to Ministry Headquarters.”

Mei gives the signal to cut the speaker and it dies in the middle of repeating the same phrase. “What does that mean? Did we do something wrong?”

Angela sighs. “I do believe this is my fault. Once my name appeared on the passenger list, I’m sure it raised some flags. Probably all of us, because of Overwatch’s past, but mostly me.”

“Why?” Mei asks as they drop back out of their landing pattern and head up to the new beacon pinging on their radar. The Ministry HQ must be the gigantic tower still under construction in the absolute center of the city.

“I take it you don’t actually know who the Ministry of Genetics is in Oasis.”

Mei shakes her head. “I skimmed the list, but I was looking for weather or climatology, which by the way, is negligent that they don’t have one.”

Angela pulls up a list on one of the screens, and pulls up a particular dossier. Mei gasps to see it.

“Really? Isn’t she--”

“Bad news and worse for us. I was hoping to get in and out without having to deal with her.”

They land in a sky hangar off the side of the Ministry HQ building, several hundred feet up in the air.

Mei should have known about this. How did she miss it? Why did Winston approve it?

“Should we abort?”

“Nonsense,” Angela says. “She’s an official here, even if we know she’s on the take. They’re opportunists around here, not evil. At least, I hope they’re not evil.”

Mei activates Snowball and double checks her cryo blaster, adjusts the new protective jacket Brigitte made for her, and takes a deep breath.

“Let’s go meet Moira, I guess.”

Mei takes the lead, letting Snowball dart around her as it explores their surroundings. It takes one look at the ground from where they stand, trills loudly, and forcefully docks itself back into Mei’s backpack. She tries not to laugh at its cowardice.

Fareeha, Angela, and Brigitte follow. They’re all in their combat gear, which may not be a good look for a research mission, but Mei’s glad she asked Fareeha to come now. Aerial support might come in handy.

At the bottom of the hangar platform stands a tall and sinuous figure, wearing a long white lab coat and dripping malice from the grin on her lips. Red hair and pale skin.

Moira O’Deorain. Former Blackwatch member, suspected Talon operative, Minister of Genetics.

“Welcome to my humble home,” she says, lifting her arms in a grand gesture, her sleeves draping artfully down. She flicks a finger, and the hangar swarms with security drones and personnel, both human and omnic. Lasers and projectile weapons aim at the group. Before Mei can call for a retreat or work up any kind of combat strategy, they are surrounded and woefully outnumbered.

She glances back at her team, who all have weapons readied and stances combative. Fareeha’s thrusters prime for takeoff, but Mei says, “Stand down. If she means to kill us, putting up a fight will only speed it along.”

“And who is this delicious tart with the big brain?” Moira asks, stalking up the ramp to the four of them. She casts dismissive glances at Brigitte and Fareeha. “You two I vaguely remember. Overwatch brats, always underfoot.”

Angela steps forward. “It’s been a long time, Moira.”

“I’m not talking to you, Angie. We’ll have our discussion.” She turns back to Mei. “Well? Should I arrest you as a collaborator for the unsanctioned activities of a bunch of Overwatch wannabes?”

“My name is Mei-Ling Zhou, and we are here on a mission of climatological research.”

“And is it merely coincidence that you are in the presence of not one, but three known members or associates of Overwatch?” Moira asks, almost bored.

“It is not coincidence, Minister O’Deorain. I was once a member of Overwatch, too. We are merely attempting to do some research in your university.”

Moira winks at Mei. “Once? Not… anymore, then? Not moonlighting?”

Mei leans in and whispers, “We do not hide in the shadows like Talon.”

Moira leans back and stands up straight, her impressive height towering over all but Brigitte, and still taller than her by a couple of inches. Her grin grows even more malicious than before, somehow. 

She says, “Take their weapons and escort them to holding.”

Mei attempts to ping Winston back at Overwatch HQ, but the signal is jammed. Perfect.

She decouples her blaster from its hose and hands it over, gesturing for her team to do the same.

Go on a simple research trip, Mei. It’ll be totally safe, Mei. 

The armed drones and security guards lead them away from their dropship, away from escape, deeper into the Ministry HQ and whatever Moira of Talon has in store for them.


	2. I Put My Faith In Science

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moira, Minister of Genetics in Oasis and suspected member of Talon, has taken Mei and her team prisoner in the Oasis Ministry HQ. She questions Fareeha and Brigitte, sowing discord and lies. Meanwhile, Mei considers an escape.
> 
> See the Chapter Notes at the end for some additional information pertinent to my writing of this story in an ongoing capacity, in the wake of the Hong Kong protests and Blizzard's complicit behavior in suppressing it.

Moira’s fingernails tap against the cold metal table. She can hardly believe her good luck. Overwatch just handing themselves over. True, it might have been better to catch more of the old guard, but Moira can work with what she has.

She’s very good at improvising solutions.

“So, ‘Pharah’ is your call sign?” she asks, leaning in a little.

Fareeha Amari, daughter of one of the most terrifying snipers the world has ever seen, glares back at her. “You know that it is, Talon scum.”

“I’ll thank you not to disparage my good name. I am the Minister of Genetics here in Oasis.”

“It doesn’t change that you are associated with a terrorist organization.”

“One can be proven, the other simply cannot.” Moira smiles. “But we are not here to discuss my hypothetical secret alliances, but yours. Do you really expect me to believe that two Overwatch brats and two former Overwatch agents, are not in fact Overwatch?”

Fareeha shrugs. “Overwatch disbanded. Some say it’s partly your fault.”

Moira waves a hand flippantly. “Someone always takes the blame when our cherished institutions fall from grace. When they get caught acting against their high, noble purpose. Blackwatch was not some rogue element. Even your mother ran an op or two.”

That last catches Fareeha by surprise. “Oh, you didn’t know? Ana Amari’s downturn was not nearly so unexpected. Her rumored activities past her expiration date… well they seem a little more expected once you know her hands were not nearly so clean.”

“My mother did what was best,” Fareeha says, steeling herself. Interesting. She folds her arms and glares defiantly at Moira. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand the nuance of moral decisions.”

Moira shrugs. “Morality, Moirality. More reality, little Amari.” She glances at Fareeha’s file, and decides to poke at her. “Did you know you were protecting me once upon a time?”

“I highly doubt that.” She bites her lower lip. But there it is. A tiny crack in her composure as her certainty slips just a hair.

“You were with Helix, contracted to safeguard a research team out of France, yes?”

Fareeha nods, unsure. “Helix would not accept a questionable security detail.”

“They would if they didn’t know I was part of the team. You saw combat in France, didn’t you?”

She nods again. “We ended up flying a sortie when some drones attempted to infiltrate the compound.”

Moira was not part of this research team, but putting Fareeha in her place a little is satisfying. She stands up and smiles again. 

“You sit tight while I go have chats with your friends.”

Fareeha begins to stand, but Moira holds out her right hand, tendrils of dark purple coming from the pads in her palm. “Believe me when I say you’ve never had a hangover as bad as waking up from this.”

Fareeha sits, arms folded once more, and sulks. Moira can hardly contain her pleasure as she leaves the room. Brigitte Lindholm is next. A firecracker, a loose cannon. As hotheaded as her dear little father, no doubt. 

The young woman’s fingers twitch upon the metal table. Itching to be busy, no doubt. She has been stripped of her weapons, gadgets, and armor, but despite being fully clothed in her tank top and trousers, Moira can tell she feels naked. 

She checks the video feed again to make sure her surprise is still where she left him, and grins.

Moira steps into the room and takes a seat without saying anything at first, reviewing Brigitte’s file on her AR screen. Well-educated. Genius tinker. Squire to a disgraced knight. An interesting girl.

“You don’t take after your father much,” she finally says.

Brigitte sits up straighter in her chair. “In the ways that matter, I like to think I do.”

“Of course. You have a rather--eclectic mix of skills. A Jane of all trades, as it were.”

“I like to be useful. Where are my friends?”

“Sequestered,” Moira says, not missing a beat with the conversational pivot. “You have borrowed elements from all your heroes, haven’t you? A shield and oversized melee like your godfather, armor and invention from your father, a little nanotech healing from the valkyrie. One wonders how you manage to  _ be  _ useful without specialization.”

Brigitte grins. “You must lack the intelligence, Talon scum.”

Moira laughs. “I see you’ve inherited the jingoistic pride at the expense of logic. Wilhelm was never a subtle man, but he’s done you no favors, Brigitte Lindholm.”

Brigitte’s eyes narrow and she slams a fist on the table. “Reinhardt Wilhelm was publically scorned for the part you and Reaper played in blacking Overwatch’s name. You don’t deserve to even say his name.”

Moira thought she would need to press on her father’s good name, but Reinhardt seems to be the ticket. “And why do you think you and he deserve to revive a fallen symbol?”

Brigitte blurts out, “A friend of mine once said, ‘The world could always use more heroes.’ We can be that. You could, too, if you stopped being so cold and selfish.”

This surprises Moira. “You think me selfish?”

“You destroyed Overwatch. You run experiments with no oversight here. You are Talon. Of course you are selfish. So long as you get to do your research, it doesn’t matter who gets hurt along the way.”

“I believe you have completely mistaken me, young Lindholm. You might find that my goals aren’t that far off a certain tiny inventor.” 

“Don’t you dare try to compare yourself to him.”

Moira smiles and pulls up a video feed on her holo-screen. “If you’re so certain, then why is Torbie on my schedule later this afternoon?” Torbjörn Lindholm appears on the video feed, with the large hunk of metal known as Bastion following him around. They are in the market district in Oasis, Torbjörn digging through a table of spare parts while Bastion pokes at a cat on a table nearby. The cat hisses and disappears under the table while Bastion rears back, surprised, and looks around as if checking to make sure no one saw anything.

Brigitte’s face is priceless, and Moira kills the video feed. “If I’m so evil, then what does that make your papa?”

Moira stands and leaves the room as Brigitte blusters and stammers, but Moira doesn’t hear a response by the time the door slides shut.

Let her stew on that a while. Moira pings her comms, “Request Torbjörn Lindholm’s presence this afternoon. He’s here for his pet project robot, but afternoon tea with an old friend would be nice.”

“Acknowledged, Minister O’Deorain.” The electronic voice snaps off and Moira turns her attention to the next holding room. 

The angel of mercy. Angela the Valkyrie.

They haven’t had a proper discussion in nearly a decade, and the last still leaves a sour taste in the back of Moira’s throat. 

She receives an AR update that Torbjörn has accepted the invitation, and briefly reviews her security logs. She clears several tests, notes the one about the accelerant far too close to  _ his _ lab, and orders additional security be placed around him. It would not do to be interrupted while she’s in a battle of wills with her only true rival in the medical research field. How truly stunning the woman’s intellect could be if she embraced what is needful over what is “good”.

Moira stares at the woman who is so righteous that she won’t even acknowledge Moira’s “ethically questionable” accomplishments in the field of medicine, despite using them. Despite benefiting from them.

Moira opens the door and sits down across from Angela “Mercy” Ziegler. She has been allowed to keep her Valkyrie armor, but her Caduceus Staff and pistol are with the others’ weapons. Despite being weaponless, the woman’s bearing is noble and haughty as she sits in the austere white room. As it always was. Frustratingly so.

“Hello, Angela. I’ve missed these little chats of ours so much.”

Mei hopes Snowball is doing okay. She didn’t think to put it in standby mode when she gave over her pack and blaster, and now she sits in this plain white room. She likewise worries for her team, but Oasis has rules and they haven’t broken any that she’s aware of.

Unless the entirety of Oasis is under Talon control, they should be able to hold steady and get out of this. Hopefully.

She has been stuck in this room for hours, and the longer she sits here, the more she is reminded of her time in Antarctica. Alone. Isolated in an endless expanse of white, no one to rescue her. No one to even know she’s still alive.

Overwatch couldn’t do anything to save her during the initial blizzard that put them in cryo. But surely they could have sent someone in the aftermath? Even an organization under scrutiny for Blackwatch’s very public reveal would be able to recall its agents and follow up on those it couldn’t contact?

She’s asked Winston and Angela, but neither has provided satisfactory answers. She’s afraid to ask anyone else who might know.

She shakes herself out of these dark thoughts and stands up, stretching and walking. If Snowball is awake, it might be doing something silly. If it’s doing something silly, she only hopes it is doing something useful and silly. Without any of her gear, Mei has only what’s on her person and in the room to devise an escape plan. A couple Pachimari patches, a hair pin, her glasses, and a virtual control panel do not instill great hope in her.

She pulls the patches from her pocket and lays them side by side on the table. It is hard not to relate them to the people who gave them to her. What would Jesse McCree do in this situation? Likely he wouldn’t have let it come to this. Every room is a shooting gallery to a man like that. He fires so fast and so accurate it seems like he’s got six guns in six hands. 

She isn’t sure what Jesse would do in this situation, but she knows it would be decisive and quick. He wouldn’t hem and haw, as he might say, but just get on with it.

She stares at the mummy patch now. Fareeha would strongarm her way free. She would take no prisoners and make no orphans in her quest for freedom. Fareeha would flip the table on her captor, use them as leverage to get her gear and her friends back, escape to safety before releasing the hostage.

Mei tries to lift the table, but it is bolted to the ground and may as well be a tree with roots for all that it shifts. Even her stool is bolted down. Everything is metal or tech. All the tech has anti-hacking and anti-tampering built in. And if she even goes for any of it, the camera will track it and alert security that she’s doing something suspicious.

She really doesn’t have many options here. She looks at the patches again. Fareeha. Jesse. Brash action and bold action. The choice is clear. She has to act.

She remembers another tool she has at her disposal. Leverage. Her own weight.

She grips the sides of the stool and pulls her legs up to her chest, wedging her torso against the stool and pressing her weight against the table with both feet. If security is actively watching her, she won’t make it far. If she doesn’t appear to be doing anything hostile, maybe the security bots won’t notice.

Maybe she has a chance to fight back.

Bold and brash. Decisive. The muscles in her arms strain and she wipes sweat from her palms. She considers the angle and repositions her body a little, then attacks the table with her legs again. The metal strains against her muscles, her tendons. Metal tears in a sickening torsion of steel, and the stool shifts backwards a little. How she’ll tear the back legs free she has no idea, but the front legs are coming loose. Slowly, painfully, but they are tearing free.

She wipes sweat from her face and grins. She’s going to free herself and her friends. 

She’s going to be bold.

I’m coming, Reeha. Just wait. I’m coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those of you who are familiar with Activision-Blizzard's response in the wake of the Hearthstone player Blitzchung's ban and subsequent lightening of the ban may be in agreement with Blizzard, or with the people of Hong Kong who are protesting human rights violations and the tyrannical rule China is attempting to impose on them.
> 
> I stand with Hong Kong and against Blizzard for suppressing these voices in capitulation to China. They chase money when they should be chasing greater freedoms. I have been vocal about it in person and on Twitter, and I have suspended all ongoing financial support for Activision-Blizzard until such a time as they see the error of their ways and use their influence to help convince China to back down instead of the other way around. Uninstalling and deleting Overwatch and WoW Classic was a very painful thing for me to do. Blizzard is not the company I once cherished.
> 
> That said, I make no money and Blizzard makes no money from my fan fiction. It has very little traction in general, and I am perfectly okay with this. I write stories about Overwatch and Mei because I love the world and the characters Blizzard has created. I believe in the message of hope and positivity that it represents. The members of Overwatch fight against terrorism and tyranny. They fight for people and for rights. They fight for those who cannot fight. I will reinforce the ideals that Overwatch stands for, even if the company who created it does not. 
> 
> I stand with Hong Kong, and I stand against Blizzard. Mei says the world is worth fighting for, and I definitely agree. Fight for the world, Blizzard.


	3. A Timely Intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mei executes her escape plan while Moira and Mercy have a chat, and all are interrupted by an emergency somewhere in Oasis.

Mei is stuck. She’s afraid to push on the stool any farther or get up and move around, as it will likely send up an alert that she’s doing something she shouldn’t. But she feels time running down while she sits here doing nothing. She’s broken free the front bolts, but the back still need to be dealt with.

Risk it all or wait? She thinks of Fareeha and decides.

Mei applies torque to the bolted back legs, yanking back and forth until first one loosens, and then another. Sweat drips from her face, but the stool rips free, and the alarms sound from above. A red light flashes from the ceiling, but the robotic voice that speaks out says, “Danger! Fire detected in Laboratory C. Suppression failed. Evacuate Laboratory C and await further instructions.”

It continues to say this while Mei wonders what happened. She considers what to do with the stool now that she’s freed it from the ground, but she doubts the mirror in this room will break from something as simple as a thrown piece of furniture.

The door beeps and Mei hastily sits on the stool, several inches from where it should be bolted down, and in flies a drone, chrome and black metal glinting from the red warning lights as it surveys the room. It has some sort of weapon trained on her, but it does nothing as it sweeps, checking for trouble.

The voice from the ceiling emits out of the drone now, the same message about fire and evacuation. Is she in Laboratory C? She has no idea.

She makes a tiny move to stand and evacuate as the voice commands, but the barrel of the weapon on the front of the drone whirs up with some kind of blue electric spark in warning. She sits down again, only to see the familiar shape of another little bot float into the doorway and burble its digital greeting at Mei.

The drone spins and the electric weapon whirs back up, but Mei stands, grabs the stool out from under her, and swings it as hard as she can at the drone while it is distracted. A satisfying chunk and clatter are her reward as it drops to the ground, its robotic voice winding down and silencing. A few sparks emit harmlessly from the weapon and it lies still on the metal floor.

Snowball burbles happily again and floats forward to Mei, spinning around her quickly and ruffling her hair with its little levitation jets.

“It’s good to see you too, goofball.” She peeks out of the still open doorway to her holding room, sees that the hallway is currently empty, and breathes a sigh of relief. Whatever’s happening, it doesn’t seem to be immediately here, and she hopes she has time to find her gear and her friends.

“Snowball, can you lead me to Pharah? I might need some fisty assistance before we save the others.”

Save. Mei almost snorts at the thought that she’s on a rescue mission, before she sobers up and realizes she’s on a rescue mission behind apparent enemy lines while there’s some emergency going on that may or may not have anything to do with her and her allies.

Just have to free up a fighter, she thinks. The rest will come.

“Hello, Angela. I’ve missed these little chats of ours so much.” Angela leans forward to Moira after she says this, her eyes fiery and confident.

“Are you sure it is our chats or the information you learned from them?” Angela asks.

Moira waves a dismissive hand. “If you ever want to make progress in a timely manner, the fastest way to do so is simply by looking at what lines others fear to cross, and then kicking some sand over it.”

“I wish you had any kind of empathy for the people you hurt, Moira. I truly do.”

“Do you have ‘empathy’ for the people you fail to heal?” Moira counters.

“Of course.”

“And have you not benefitted from my advances?”

“Yes, but that--”

“So you can benefit but you won’t get your hands dirty.”

“That’s not what I’m doing and you know it.”

“Do I?”

An alarm sounds, the accelerant in Laboratory C has broken its containment. Moira dismisses the alarm from her view, trusting the emergency protocols to do their job.

“Do you need to deal with this?” Angela asks, waving a hand up to the flashing red light from the ceiling.

“It is being handled. I’m more interested in your hypocrisy.”

“There is no shame is using a technique gained from pain and suffering to help others. There is only shame in using pain and suffering to learn the technique.”

“So my ‘soul’ is blighted and everyone else walks free, head held high and syringes full?”

“If I could have held you responsible for the things you did, and are still doing, I would.”

Moira smiles, clicking her fingernails on the metal table. The alarm pings on her holoscreen again with an update that Laboratory C has been evacuated, but the fire suppression systems are not stopping the spread of this unstable accelerant. She sighs and stands.

“If you’ll excuse me, it turns out that someone is incapable of putting out a simple fire. We will continue our discussion soon.”

Moira strides from the room, leaving a nonplussed Angela to stew while the alarms rage on. Water isn’t stopping the spread of this volatile fire, nor is the chemical sprayer that Moira was assured would work for any accelerant they created. She should have known better, but here they are.

A thought occurs to her, and she changes stride in the hallway and instead heads for the other holding cells and the equipment room beyond, intent on gathering up a certain climate scientist’s freeze gun.

But when she arrives, the soldier in charge of the weapons and armor collected from the Overwatch team is knocked out, dazed on the floor, and all the gear is missing.

Moira scoffs and checks surveillance while calling up reinforcements. They are slow to arrive given that there is also a potentially catastrophic thermal event happening down in the laboratories, and Moira gives up waiting for them. On the security feeds, she spots the scientist and the air soldier heading back to the holding cells, presumably to free their other companions. Fareeha has her rocket launcher primed, and her armor ready to fly, while Mei is back in her tactical vest with canister on her back, with the little robot flitting about her excitedly. Mei’s blaster is holstered, but only because the woman carries Brigitte and Angela’s equipment.

If Moira wasn’t pressed for time, she would laugh at her good fortune. Breaking containment, attacking a drone and a soldier, going on the run; this could shut down all of them for life if she wanted it to.

And yet the scientist has something Moira needs. She checks another feed, in Laboratory D, his lab, and is glad to see it’s safe for now, but she has a sinking feeling it won’t last forever.. On a whim she verifies that Torbie and his pet war machine are likewise headed for the trouble, because of course they are. Sigma, her ill-kept Talon secret, is in danger of being disturbed by the alarms and the raging fire.

That won’t do at all. Moira needs to get to the scientist quickly, if she has any hope of stopping the spread of this fire.

She fades away into a plume of black smoke that darts away up the hall, faster than she can run. Not entirely unlike Gabriel’s abilities, and yet she is not tortured by it. She has full control.

But she needs to test her limits and find a solution before the whole city has to be evacuated.

Mei watches Fareeha in awe as the soldier deftly maneuvers, even in these narrow hallways, to avoid shock rifles and knock guns out of hands. They had nearly made it to Brigitte’s holding cell when someone finally caught on that there was a jailbreak happening in the middle of the emergency.

Mei stands back, holding Brigitte and Angela’s gear, while Fareeha fires her jets left, shooting her to the right to avoid a drone strike. She shoots the jets straight down and inverse piledrives a robot assailant into the metal ceiling, scattering its parts. Mei hopes it was not an omnic. 

Fareeha leans back and shoots down the hallway along the ceiling to avoid a flamethrower, then cuts the jets and performs a flip to change her direction, and jets back down the hall, reversing her momentum so fast it must be dangerous. The soldiers scatter to the walls to avoid her cannonball flight, but she sideswipes one with a fist and aileron rolls to spin her into the other soldier along the other wall. Their impact is meaty and crunchy and Mei winces to hear it, even more than the image as they collapse several meters down the hall.

Fareeha halts her momentum with an almost lazy spin to face Mei and settles to her feet, stretching and rolling her shoulders. 

“That was the last of them,” she says. Her visor is down, but Mei can hear the grin in her voice.

Mei is too impressed to say more than, “Wow.” as she walks up to Fareeha.

Her jets have left scorch marks all over the ceiling, walls, and floor, and there are several drones and robots in pieces, as well as the several human soldiers knocked unconscious. Mei stares at them all, and rearranges the gear she’s carrying to hold the Caduceus Staff.

“Angela just points and pulls this trigger, right? These people do not deserve to be injured for defending their posts.”

Fareeha pulls up on the Staff before Mei can trigger it. “We don’t need to wake up the enemy just yet. Better to find our friends and worry about them later.”

Mei nods, but before they can take more than a couple steps toward Brigitte’s holding cell, Moira’s laugh echoes all around them. A smoky hand yanks the Caduceus Staff from Mei’s grip as a cloud of black envelops them and passes through, to form into the tall redhead holding the Staff in her right hand above her injured soldiers.

Mei knew the woman was capable of such a maneuver, from the Blackwatch files, but it’s another thing entirely to witness it firsthand.

Moira says, “I have a proposal for you, Mei of Overwatch.” 

Fareeha stands slightly in front of Mei, providing cover, and Mei glances around.

“It looks to me like you are outnumbered, Minister. Pharah, do you want to take care of her?”

Fareeha nods, chuckling. “I’ll make short work of her.” She takes a step forward, and Moira laughs again. From her left hand comes a golden spray of vapor, invigorating the woman soldier on the ground and knitting her wounds. She gasps as she comes to consciousness and struggles to her feet, taking in the scene around her. 

She says, “Minister O’Deorain, thank you.”

Moira grins at the woman, pointing the Staff at her now. An electric blue energy beams out, one Mei has seen before. The woman soldier breathes deep as she is not only healed, but empowered. Her smile is confident, angry. Mei doesn’t want to fight this woman, nor let Fareeha take the chance, either.

She says, “About that proposal?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for skipping a post two weeks ago! I was down and out a bit because of the whole "everybody forgave Blizzard" for their BlizzCon non-apology over the Honk Kong / Blitzchung affair. Hopefully I'm back in the saddle and can stick to a posting schedule again.


	4. Ready For Some Fireworks?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mei and Fareeha work to put out the laboratory fire spreading unchecked through Oasis.

The proposal is simple. Help stop the spread of this experimental accelerant, and Moira will let them go. Angela and Brigitte will stay in confinement as insurance against them just fleeing, while Mei and Fareeha go to figure out how to stop this fire spreading.

Moira sends Mei’s holo reader the coordinates of the fire, and Mei asks where the nearest lift is. Fareeha chuckles and shakes her head.

“Come on. This way.” Fareeha leads them back to the landing zone where their dropship has been cordoned off and is being dismantled and investigated. Mei scoffs at that, but Fareeha is still smiling.

“What now? We can’t very well fly this thing with them taking it apart?” Mei asks.

Fareeha leans in and says, “I’m the only lift you need, Mei-Mei.” Before Mei registers what she means, Fareeha lifts her in a princess carry and rockets off the platform into open sky.

After Mei’s initial scream of surprise and fright, she notes that Fareeha’s not struggling to hold her weight like in the desert. Instead, they are spiraling down at a good clip, and from up here it is quite obvious where the lab is that the fire is happening. Smoke and lights appear a ways away, and as they spiral down they get downwind of it and head toward it.

“I thought you couldn’t carry my weight with all my gear!” Mei shouts over the jets and the sirens below.

“Squire is really quite a brilliant engineer,” Fareeha says in the comms, and Mei blushes slightly. She hadn’t realized their comms had been re-enabled.

Brigitte’s voice hops over the comms now, “What’s going on? I know I’m brilliant, but I’m also sitting in a room with armed guards watching over me.”

Angela says, “Mercy here. Minister O’Deorain has graciously allowed Frostbite and Pharah to intervene in a local emergency. She is, sitting with me now.”

The hesitation is clear in Angela’s voice. Mei pings her comms and says, “HQ, can you hear me?”

“Crusader here!” Reinhardt reports back. Great. Though she might have given a lot to have Reinhardt on hand just now, dealing with him at HQ is another story.

“What happened to Zinj?” she asks.

“He had an important meeting with a city official and asked me to fill in! How goes the reading and searching, Snow Queen?”

“Waylaid by a member of Talon and a local emergency, of which Pharah and I are going to suppress.”

“Talon is there? Crush their puny bones and turn them into snowmen!”

She sighs and says, “Not as simple as that, Crusader, but we may need satellite coverage for a retreat. Can you provide?”

“I--I will find Tracer to help.” He sounds reluctant, but Mei has not known him to be a deft hand at the console up to this point, and she breathes a sigh of relief.

The comms go silent and Mei says out loud now that they’re nearing the ground and the roar of the jet lessens, “That man will be the death of us.”

Fareeha grins. “Honor and glory and my allies smashed like pancakes!” Her imitation is not terrible and Mei stifles a giggle as they come to land in front of emergency crews spraying water and some kind of cooling foam over a fire that dies down long enough for the accelerant to ignite the foam suppressant, spreading further and faster.

She announces to the first responders, “All fire suppression systems need to shut down immediately! I have the authority of Minister O’Deorain.” No one seems to listen, or even hear her, and she clears her throat, priming her blaster.

“Who’s in charge here?” But no one pays her any mind, and the fire rages on. Fareeha takes a quick aerial jaunt, darting up and over the flames, then comes careering down, coughing and spluttering.

She shakes her head after Mei checks on her. “It’s no good. I can’t do anything with all the smoke, and whatever is burning everything, it also burns my lungs.”

Mei tries one last time, with no success, to get someone’s attention on the ground, and finally just shoots an ice wall between the people spraying foam and the spreading fire. Foam splashes against the walls and ricochets back, splatting against people and machinery, causing mayhem before Mei spots the person in charge, a tall man calling for the trucks to move, yelling at bystanders to get clear, and cursing up a storm at whatever caused these ice walls.

She strides up to the man and loses her courage, feeling out of place. “Uh, excuse me?” she asks, trying not to be timid.

The man finally registers her presence and yells, “Did you do this?” He points at the ice walls. 

“I did, but you need to listen--”

“I need you to get back and let us do our job, ma’am.”

“You’re only making things worse,” she yells as he begins to walk away. 

He pauses, head turning back to her. “And do you have a better idea? Water isn’t helping, and the foam intensifies the blaze, but it slows it first, giving us time to get ahead of it.”

An explosion rocks the building nearby, clattering stone and steel and sending everyone running for cover. Fareeha blocks raining debris with an arm as Mei ducks behind a hover truck equipped with hoses and foam sprayers.

“Maybe! I have a chemical spray that I invented. Turns to ice upon contact with a surface and spreads out. The ice wall is one setting, and it is not made of just water.”

The man eyes her blaster and nods. “How much do you have if it works?”

“Just this canister on hand. Not enough for a blaze this size the way I can dispense it right now.”

“What are our options?” Fareeha asks. “I can do a flyover if we can find a better dispersal method.”

Mei shakes her head. “The risk would be too great. You already nearly fainted just doing a quick hover.”

“The job is the job, Boss.”

Mei grimaces. She won’t put her friend in harm’s way, not if there’s something else she can do first.

She doesn’t have the quick, keen engineering mind that Brigitte has, but Moira wouldn’t let the woman out. Her hasty cobbling together of a localized snowstorm would work, like she did on the last mission, but it’s too localized. If she spreads it out farther, the effectiveness will be lessened.

But none of that matters if it doesn’t even work. She stands up now, eyeing the smoking labs. “I need to know if it will subdue the accelerant that is continuing to spread with the fire,” she says. “Is there a place I can get close?”

In response, Fareeha jets into the sky again, taking a quick glance around before coming back down and exhaling heavily. She held her breath the whole time, it seems.

Fareeha says, “Maybe. There’s a small room, a janitor’s closet or something, where the fire has spread through the doors but it is contained inside the concrete walls. The ceiling has burned through. I can probably open up the wall and give you access.”

The guy in charge nods. He starts calling orders again, and one of the fire trucks hovers over to the place Fareeha indicated, getting ready to foam things if it goes bad.

“If this doesn’t work, we’ll have given the fire a new avenue to spread,” he points out. 

Mei knows this, but she doesn’t know what she’s working against. “Unless you can find the scientists responsible and they can quickly explain what they did, this is the next best thing.”

He shakes his head no. “They’ve all been evacuated and quarantined. They’re refusing to reveal their trade secrets and I heard one of them even gloating about how successful this is as a showcase.”

Fareeha grunts. “Despicable.”

“I’m just the guy with the fire hose, trying to put out a volcano.”

Mei nods. “Pharah, do it.” They all take cover while Fareeha takes aim. She fires a rocket low, exploding near the base of the concrete structure, which melts like butter rather than bricking out and shooting shrapnel everywhere. The momentary inward blast is quickly shunted out, with fire roiling out of the new hole. Slabs of gooey, burning concrete slap against the barricades and fire truck. 

The heat washes over Mei and she calls, “Okay, everyone get back! Be ready to spray foam if this doesn’t work!” She accepts a firefighter’s bright yellow helmet with a visor and ventilator, quickly adjusts to the unexpected heft of it, and breathes through the ventilator as she goes up.

She notes with some pleasure that everyone is now listening to her, and she steps forward to the inferno, turning the dial on her blaster to maximum spray. Please let this work. The blaze reaches out, spreading out across the lawn and sidewalks, eating up the environment and almost seeming to strengthen as it goes. What kind of accelerant is this?

She aims and sprays a small amount, which has one immediate effect and one slightly less immediate effect. The immediate effect is that it works! The fire dies where her chemical spray lands, and the fire roars around it, only to slowly leech out the frozen compound as it melts into liquid form, guttering the flames around it until the hole in the building roars with intense heat, but everything outside has calmed.

It works, and a little better than she could have hoped.

Then the not so immediate effect kicks in, a noxious gas that fills Mei’s nose and throat with such acrid burning that her body fights to cough and faint at the same time. Even through the ventilator. She falls backward, only to have Fareeha catch her and drag her to safety.

After she is away from the chemical gas and gets an oxygen mask, she stops coughing and works to breathe normally. 

“You’re lucky to be alive,” Fareeha notes, patting her shoulder and squeezing it with affection. 

Mei coughs a little and nods, removing her firefighter helmet. “I think we’re all lucky that it works it all. But how can we deal with the rest if we can’t deploy it at close range without putting someone at risk?”

A Swedish accented voice calls from behind them, punctuated by several robotic boops, “Perhaps we can help.”

They turn to find Brigitte’s father, Torbjörn, tiny and taking up the whole street with his swagger. Mei hasn’t seen any recent pictures of the man, but they wouldn’t do him justice anyway. He’s larger than life and smaller than a scooter, and the gray in his beard and hair only make him more formidable. Behind him is his distracted pet killer omnic, Bastion, who is looking around nervously and making little calls. A tiny bird flits away from the fire and lands on Bastion’s soldier, chirping to the omnic.

Torbjörn Lindholm looks from the fire to Mei still breathing through her oxygen mask, and grins. “I think this calls for a little Swedish engineering, don’t you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late posting! December's a busy month, as you can imagine if you have social events and gift-buying and a need to eat and sleep and still work. 
> 
> Next time on Oasis Shakedown, Mei and Fareeha work with Torb and Bastion to save the technological city of Oasis from a raging inferno!


	5. Why Didn't I Think Of That?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mei--with the help of Pharah, Torbjörn, and Bastion--works to stop the spread of an experimental fire using... unorthodox tactics.

The plan falls apart almost immediately. The initial goal of creating a dispersal cloud that will layer over the spreading flames and chemically nullify the accelerant is a good one, but after a few minutes of hurried and harried planning and tinkering, Mei admits they just don’t have time to modify her chemical cryo solution for a large scale deployment. 

She looks around after Torbjörn becomes frustrated that this is something he can’t just throw a turret at, and another idea begins to blossom. 

“Torbjörn,” she says, “Does this Bastion unit still retain the ability to go into its tank mode?”

Bastion beeps and whistles, shaking its head, and Torbjörn thumps it upside its frame. “Don’t listen to this bucket of bolts, it can and will turn into a tank.”

Bastion’s chirps die off in cascading disappointment. Eventually it boops what sounds like an affirmative, and turns away from the group, looking for its little bird companion.

“Okay, so here’s what I’m thinking…” Over the next few minutes, Mei details her plan while Torbjörn and Fareeha nod in agreement. 

“This would probably be easier if Brigitte were here,” she says.

“How do you know my daughter?” Torbjörn asks.

Fareeha nudges the older man with an elbow, which takes some doing since he’s so short. “Come on, Uncle Turret, surely you know she’s taken after you.”

“I know nothing of the sort.” But Mei can tell by his sour expression that he knows something, all right.

“Regardless, she’s not available,” Mei says. “Every minute we sit here talking about it is one more building at risk, one more experiment that could interact poorly. More lives that can be saved.”

Torbjörn strokes his beard while Bastion is off in a corner, moping. Mei has heard some tales about this omnic, and to see it in person is both bizarre and fascinating. If she were more interested in AI, she’d probably be giddy. “Does it communicate in words that can be translated?”

“I think it’s mostly just yea and nay,” Torbjörn answers. “But then, I’m not the dolt who made it. Just a… caretaker, I guess?”

“Well, regardless, I am going to see if I can talk it around. Let me know when its shells have been modified.”

Fareeha grins. “We got you, Frostbite. Do your leader thing and we’ll do our ‘try not to explode ourselves’ thing.”

Mei nods and hopes they truly do not blow themselves up. Modifying ordnance, especially long-range cannon fire, seems especially delicate.

She approaches Bastion and isn’t sure how to talk to a robot that can’t really talk back. “Um, your name is Bastion, right?”

Bastion kicks a rock while ignoring its little pet bird, whom Torbjörn insists is named Ganymede, though how he knows that is beyond her. Ganymede pecks at the side of Bastion’s head, making little tink tink noises but having no obvious effect.

“You’re something like a pacifist, right? Do you know what a pacifist is?” Mei would have called herself one not too long ago. She feels the seconds ticking by and the flames spreading, but if Bastion isn’t on board, she can’t force it. It’s a person, even if that person can’t communicate properly. 

It boops and whistles, waving its gun arm around, and shakes its head. 

“I understand if that’s what this is. But we are not asking you to hurt anyone. The buildings are already lost causes. If you go into your tank mode, you will be saving many people, and helpful instead of harmful. You will not be a weapon of war.”

Bastion’s boops change to something less mournful, and its metal head lifts to look at her with digital eyes. 

“Instead you will be what your name truly implies. A bastion against the fires that would topple this city.”

Bastion nods, whistling happily, or what Mei hopes is happy. It lifts a finger to Ganymede, who hops onto its finger and chirps along with Bastion’s noises. They follow Mei back to the others just as it looks like Fareeha and Torbjörn finish up with the last of Mei’s cryo solution.

The shells have a rime of frost, and she hopes Bastion will still be able to fire them.

“Bastion is onboard. Are we ready?” Mei asks.

Fareeha nods. “We still have all our fingers, see?” She wiggles them at Mei and Mei stifles a grin. “On mission, Frostbite.”

Torbjörn scowls. “There’s just one problem, and you’re not gonna like the solution.”

Mei’s bottom vibrates pleasantly as she sits atop Bastion in its tank mode. There are worse ideas Mei has been a part of, but this one is generally so wild that only a Lindholm could come up with it.

“In position,” Mei says over comms. Bastion boops and its cannon barrel shifts up and down. Mei holds the strap that connects her to Bastion in one hand, while cradling the shell bandolier with the modified shells in it in her other hand.

Fareeha says, “Schematic and Pharah in position.” Pressed for a code name, Schematic was all they could come up with on short notice for Torbjörn, but he seems to like it.

“Execute demolition of west towers.” From in the sky, Fareeha’s rockets rain down while Torbjörn’s turret and rivet gun focus on toppling the walls in the west inwards. As soon as they begin, Mei taps Bastion’s hull and says, “The peak of the falling wall, now!”

The barrel shifts, sights down the burning building, and a deafening boom vibrates up Mei’s entire body as the shell explodes on contact, flash freezing everything, even the wall in its descent. Cryo demolition. Only a Lindholm, she swears.

The dispersion is chaotic and a little random, but so long as bastion can accurately cut off points of egress with her direction, the accelerant and the fires will be contained.

“North walls,” Mei says, loading Bastion up with the next frozen canister. Normally it would just have them internally loading, but the shells are too cold and caused Bastion to malfunction. So here she is, riding a machine of death on a mission of mercy.

The next shell loaded, Bastion sights down the appropriate place after driving down the streets towards the north side of the labs. Their line of sight is not great here, with fires still raging, but Bastion finds the right place while Fareeha and Torbjörn topple another series of walls. The north side of this series of connected buildings is longer by far than the east and west walls, and it takes three shells to cover the distance and cryodemo the building for proper containment.

They rove around, with Torbjörn hauling his turret behind them, to reach the east wall, and prepare to do the same. Fareeha’s cough comes through the comms, and Mei glances up from her precarious perch to see the woman’s movements erratic in the sky.

Mei says in the comms, “Pharah, fall back. The fumes will only get worse as we close off the avenues for its spread. They will condense.”

“I’m fine, Frostbite,” Fareeha answers. “I’ll get downwind of it.”

Mei thinks the woman is posturing, but she also wants to trust her squad. “Schematic, are you in position?”

Over comms, Torbjörn says, “I’m getting to higher ground. One second.”

Mei turns and sees Torbjörn’s turret collapse down into a little metal ball, and then he tosses it high up onto a second story balcony, where it knocks over the railing as its forms back up into its turret mode. 

“It knows what to do,” he shouts, coming back up next to Bastion and Mei, aiming his rivet gun where the turret is already firing.

The wall explodes inward from Fareeha’s rocket, but the positioning is a little off, and Bastion can’t get the right angle on this section of wall. Part of the wall still stands, and Mei is so focused on the fire, on stopping it, that she doesn’t have time to check on Fareeha.

“We need a new angle!” she shouts at Bastion, while loading the next cryo shell. “Hold on, I’ll take us up.”

Bastion boops acknowledgement, and Mei aims her blaster at the ground. The upward momentum as the shelf of ice rockets them skyward takes Mei off of Bastion’s back, and they are airborne for mere moments as they come crashing down onto the ice, a solid story above the ground. Bastion aims and fires while Torbjörn helps take the wall down, and they have just the last side of this block of labs to handle.

But Mei is nearly out of cryo solution, and they have just enough shells left to stop it, if it doesn’t spread any farther than it has right now.

“To the south wall!” Mei shouts, and while Bastion and Torbjörn make their way, Mei calls into the comms, “Pharah, do you copy? Can you continue the mission?”

There’s silence for several tense seconds, and Mei repeats it.

Fareeha doesn’t answer. Has she passed out? Fallen from the sky?

There’s no time to check, but she has to know.

“Bastion, Schematic, get to the southern wall and prepare. I’ll be back!”

She separates herself from the tank as it rolls, and hops off, losing her balance momentarily, but righting herself as she runs off in the direction she last saw Fareeha in the sky.

The streets are clear here as the fire response units have kept everyone back. Mei pings Fareeha’s location and finds her hovering above some sort of power grid, seeming confused.

“Fareeha!” Mei shouts, running forward as her friend coughs and stares around blankly. She’s twenty or so feet above instant death and doesn’t seem to realize it.

The fumes must have really become toxic for her to be affected like this. Mei sees the outer wall of the protected grid, with lines and towers that are surely hot with energy just behind them.

She has one shot at this if Fareeha faints. She runs forward and the jets on Fareeha’s pack cut off abruptly. In the split-second before gravity remembers to pull her down, Mei aims and fires the very last bit of her cryo solution at the tip of the wall. If her aim is off, it will fly harmlessly away or shatter against the protective wall.

It hits just right, and the trajectory at the tip of the wall sends the ice shelf out diagonally under Fareeha. She slams into it, where it cracks but holds and slides her to the edge of the wall.

She falls off the last ten feet, where Mei is there to try and break her fall. The woman in all her flight suit armor is much heavier than Mei anticipates, though, and she topples to the ground with Fareeha atop her.

Fareeha comes to suddenly, staring down at Mei, who smiles amidst the pain of being crushed. Their faces are very close.

“Did we stop the fires?” Fareeha mumbles.

“Not yet, Reeha,” Mei whispers. “Your life was too important.”

She coughs lightly, still not totally okay. “We’re on mission, Mei-Mei.”

Mei chuckles and presses up on Fareeha. “So we are. Help me out, would you? We still have a fire to stop.”

Fareeha nods and pushes up, getting to her feet with effort. Mei stands and pings Snowball. “Go help the others. We’ll be along in a second.”

Snowball whirs up from its cradle and speeds off to the south, where the emergency crews and her guest team members still fight the raging inferno.

“We should get in there,” Fareeha says, leaning against the wall of the power grid.

Mei shakes her head no. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re compromised.”

“I can handle it.”

She stands straight and nearly falls over, and Mei helps her back to the wall. “You’re sidelined until the effects of the smoke are gone. Go see the emergency services, get some oxygen.”

Fareeha tries to breathe deep and coughs again. She grimaces, but nods. “Fine. Go save the day.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Mei puts a hand on Fareeha’s armored shoulder. “You did your best, too. You’re not weak for succumbing to smoke poisoning.”

Fareeha looks away. “Never said I was.” 

Mei isn’t sure what to do with that reaction, and leaves her friend behind to run back and help with the fire, if it still needs it.

And it does. When she gets back to Torbjörn and Bastion, the pair of them have not broken the walls on the south side of the labs yet. The fire is too close here, the accelerant ready to leap out and spread. The timing has to be perfect, and they don’t have the right angle.

Snowball buzzes around Torbjörn’s turret, and the turret, waiting for a command from Torbjörn, tracks the little floating bot with its machine gun. The two of them appear to have made a game of it.

“We’re running out of time and options,” Torbjörn says. “Another of those icy walls wouldn’t go amiss.”

“No more available today, sorry.” Mei glances around. “Could we get a ladder from the fire trucks?”

“They’re pulling one around,” Torbjörn says, “but I don’t think we have time for that.”

Bastion boops and whistles, ejecting the cryo shell from its cannon and loading one of its normal explosive rounds. It points at the ground, then at the sky.

Torbjörn’s eyes go wide. “Oh, no you don’t. That’ll blow up you and anyone who’s daft enough to ride you.”

“What’s he talking about?” Mei asks.

“The bots call it a rocket jump. Some units were outfitted with blast protection, and they used their own explosives to catapult upwards, gaining an aerial edge in combat.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“It is. And mighty stupid,” Torbjörn finishes.

“Would it work, Bastion? Can you survive a ‘rocket jump’?”

Bastion boops insistently and Torbjörn huffs, crossing his arms. “He seems to think we’ll be fine.”

“We have two cryo shells left, right?” Mei asks, calculating. At this rate, they need to activate both shells simultaneously, while the wall is falling inwards, to cut off the accelerant and fully contain the fire.

“If Bastion thinks we can survive it, I think we have to try.”

Torbjörn shakes his head. “The arrogance of youth and the ignorance of bots, save me from it all.”

“Just take down the wall on my mark,” Mei says. She hopes Bastion is right. She hopes she’s not about to just blindly explode herself.

But there’s only one way to find out.

Mei straps herself back to Bastion’s tank mode, holding one cryo shell. They’ve got one shot at this as Bastion positions itself where it can do the most good.

“Rocket jump!” Mei yells. Bastion’s treads launch them forward as its cannon points behind and them and down. Her whole world is chaos and disorientation as the blast jettisons them up from the ground. She’s pretty sure the concussive force has deafened her as the whole world turns to silence.

They reach the top of the arc, and the explosive shell ejects. Mei slams the cryo shell into the chamber, and grabs the other shell from the bandolier. 

As their arc descends, plummeting them twenty feet into a raging inferno, the wall begins to collapse inward. Mei throws the shell as hard as she can, judging its distance down before she yells, “Fire!”

Another concussive force rips upward, but they are far enough from it that doesn’t harm them. Cryo solution disperses as both shells erupt in the fire, just as the walls slam down, cutting off the precious oxygen to even more flames.

They plummet into a building that was burning mere moments ago, whose foundation is slag and smoldering wreck.

Bastion transforms out of its tank mode, landing on its legs roughly with a melting sizzle of metal, catching Mei before she can hit the ground.

It boops happily and walks out from the wreckage, its legs scorched and melting, but Bastion appears to be okay. It drops Mei safely to the ground and goes to stand beside Torbjörn, who only shakes his head with a sad smile at the risk they’ve taken.

The fire has gone out.

Everyone is safe.

Cheers erupt from all around, but Mei can only see the hands clapping, the water spraying. The mouths are empty of voice. The sirens’ lights warble but make no sound for her.

It isn’t until her comms beep that she realizes her ears are recovering. “Pharah here. Good job, everyone. Frostbite, should we regroup and get our companions back?”

Mei is about to answer when Moira’s voice comes from behind her, in person.

“About that… Thank you for your assistance, but you are all very much still under arrest.”

Mei spins about to find Angela, Brigitte, Torbjörn, and Bastion held hostage by soldiers and Moira herself, grinning hard enough to split her face in two.

Grinning right up until a giant piece of concrete flies up and through the roof of a nearby lab, coming to land mere feet from this standoff.

Moira’s grin fades and becomes worried. She looks back at the building, at the lab it came from. And when she glances back at Mei, she says, “Sigma is angry, and we’re all in very big trouble.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so late! I go back and forth on my enthusiasm for writing Overwatch fic, and I believe I will be putting this story on permanent hiatus after this mission is complete. Being alternately stressed and angry about the fics I'm working on is counter to why I started writing fic in the first place, and if I can't completely square that with my own mental hangups around Blizzard and their takes on Hong Kong, I don't want to keep torturing myself.
> 
> When the mission comes to an end, I'll make an official announcement on whether it will be continuing. I know this story hasn't gotten a lot of traction with the fandom, but for those of you who read, thanks for coming on this journey, and I'm sorry it will most likely not continue much beyond the end of this mission.


	6. Approaching Escape Velocity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mei and the Overwatch team form an uneasy alliance with Moira in order to deal with the threat of an unhinged Sigma. Mei searches for Pharah and they attempt to subdue what Mei assumes is a prisoner of Talon.

“What is Sigma?” Mei asks.

“Dr. De Kuiper, to be more precise,” Moira says. “You could call him a pet project, but right now he’s about to rampage across the city, and even his mere presence is disastrous.”

Torbjörn scoffs. “And what does _ that _ mean?” 

They retreat behind the emergency fire vehicles while the lab seems to crater from inside.

Moira turns back to them, signaling to her guards. They all hand the weapons back over to everyone they’d taken them from, and release Angela and Brigitte. Without a second’s waste, Brigitte rolls her shoulders and activates her shield. Angela accepts her Caduceus Staff and pistol with grace, but Mei can tell by her sigh that she’s relieved to have them back.

“So this Sigma is unstable?” Angela asks.

Moira nods. “Only when he’s disrupted, which you can imagine was all of this. I had hoped to avoid it, but here we are, and you all are probably the only ones truly capable of dealing with him.”

“Why would you have something so dangerous in a heavy population center?” Brigitte asks. “Why not have countermeasures in place?”

“We do,” Moira snaps. “They’re all execution protocols, because he’s too dangerous to be left unchecked for long. We have approximately five minutes to subdue Sigma before the anti-gravity missiles launch, and about a minute from launch to detonation.”

Mei thinks. Subdue Sigma, who is clearly being held prisoner inside a Talon-friendly agency, before the safeguards murder him and anyone within range. No good choices.

“Why do you need anti-gravity missiles for this man?” Angela asks. Mei realizes that she hasn’t seen Fareeha since the fire was put out, and glances around, not seeing her. They had communicated ever so briefly after Mei’s hearing had come back, but that was a couple of minutes ago now.

“Mercy, gather what you can about this Sigma,” Mei says, “I’m going to regroup with Pharah and attempt to communicate with--” She glances at Moira. “--with home.”

“Rest assured, I will learn all there is,” Angela says, a devilish sort of cold grin crossing her face that Mei has never seen before. Moira brings it out in her, she guesses.

“Did I give you the impression you were free to move about the cabin?” Moira asks. Her soldiers point their rifles at Mei and the rest.

Mei halts, not expecting this. Having more guns pointed at her isn’t helping her nerves, but they did kind of save the city just now. 

She sighs and holsters her cryo blaster. Not that it would do much good right now, her canister being empty and all.

“You just said we were the only ones who could help.”

Another chunk of concrete and building flies upwards and lands in the middle of the street, cracking pavement and scattering stone in all directions. Mei flinches and waves a hand at that. “We are not here to do anything but research, and help since it seems your city desperately needs it. If you want this Dr. De Kuiper to live, maybe you start by honoring your agreement with us instead of trying to re-arrest.”

The soldiers with Moira glance between Mei and Moira, and the woman’s forehead vein bulges with irritation. She nods subtly to Mei, and Mei takes off, speaking into comms and pinging Fareeha. 

She hears Angela becoming the diplomat as she leaves. “Thank you, Minister O’Deorain. Your equanimity is as sharp as your… ambition.”

Mei swears she hears music coming from somewhere as she gets far enough away from the epicenter, calling for Fareeha over comms and then just yelling her name.

“Pharah, do you hear me?”

But she can’t spot the woman, nor can she raise her on comms. She fights the panic rising in her chest and instead tries to ping HQ.

“Tracer, here. We thought you were probably arrested again, didn’t we, Crusader?”

“No jail cell can hold those women!” Crusader declares in the background of Tracer’s feed.

Mei grins. “Right. Well, we’ve suppressed a local fire, but it caused a disturbance in a nearby lab, and now there is an unstable, potential prisoner of Talon on the rampage. He is capable of compressing and throwing boulders like a baseball. Dr. De Kuiper, AKA Sigma. Can you run a check on him? And can you ping Pharah’s location? We were separated and she is not answering on comms.”

Tracer answers, “Roger that, Frostbite. Standby.”

Mei waits, impatient to find her friend, becoming increasingly worried about the woman. Mei goes over to the emergency crews to find the man she talked to before while working to suppress the fires, and when she spots him, he waves her over.

He says, “I was wondering where you’d all got off to! Looks like you did the job, and not a moment too soon.”

“The danger is not over yet, unfortunately.” She looks around. They’re not far from the lab and Sigma’s escape, but no one seems to notice the coming danger. “There is a situation from a nearby lab, and it might be a good idea to evacuate who you can in case of crossfire.”

Whereas fighting the fire, the man was mostly composed and assured, his expression now sours and he sighs. “You know, there’s drawbacks to all this progress. Somedays I think I’d be better off somewhere like Paris, or London. Somewhere the regulations at least exist and these “city-ending” emergencies go from weekly occurrence to more like never.”

“It does seem like maybe _ some _ regulation would be a good thing,” Mei says. 

“Don’t let the Ministers hear that.” He clears his throat from the smoke still in the area. “We’ll move away from the site as we can. We’re still dealing with inhalation problems and some people aren’t safe to move yet.”

“Oh!” Mei exclaims. “That’s why I originally came to talk to you. Did the Egyptian woman in the flying armor come to you for medical attention? She was above the flames and the smoke was affecting her.”

He activates his earpiece, speaking the local language of Oasis, Kurdish it sounds like. After a minute or so he shakes his head after listening to the chatter. “Sorry. We remember seeing her. Hard not to recall that armor, but the last anyone saw her, she was flying up and away from the site of the fire.”

“Was this after we suppressed it?” Mei asks. What could she have been doing? Was she confused.

“Maybe. We’re focused on damage control and helping people who need it. If your friend wasn’t hurt, we could only do so much tracking her.”

Mei shakes her head. “Of course. Thank you for the information, and please make sure you get to safety as soon as you can.”

“And thanks to you and your, uh, unorthodox fire fighting methods. I hope everything works out for you.”

Mei shakes his outstretched hand and pings Tracer at HQ again as she takes her leave, heading to regroup with Angela and Moira. “Anything?”

“Negative, Frostbite. We show her in the area, and she appears to be moving towards you, but hailing her on comms is a big old failure.”

Mei glances around while Tracer says she’s routing a dossier on a Dr. De Kuiper to Mei’s holo screen, expecting to find Fareeha striding up to her, but of course that would be too easy.

But there’s a particular sound in the air, one Mei has come to know well. The personal jets on Fareeha’s armor, feathering as she controls her descent from on high.

Mei looks up and sees her, in her golden-bronze suit, streaked with soot but healthy, as she drops out of the bright blue desert sky. 

She tries to control the cracking in her voice as she says, “Eyes on Pharah, HQ. She appears to be okay.” 

“That is good!” Reinhardt’s voice booms. “She is too strong to be taken out by a little smoke.” Well, it was nice to have Lena on comms while it lasted.

“Continue monitoring the situation, Crusader. We’ll be in touch.”

“Good luck, Snow Queen! Break Talon’s grip, wherever you find it!” 

Fareeha spots her and floats down to her, and Mei understands now where she had gone. She pulls from her back a pack that contains a brand new canister of Mei’s cryo solution. 

“Where did you get that?” Mei demands, suppressing the urge to throw an arm around her friend now that she’s safe and on the ground again.

Fareeha grins, lifting her visor. She’s a little pale, but okay. “I hope you do not become angry with me, Mei-Mei, but I thought it wise to bring extras, just in case this became a combat mission and you ran out. I heard Moira’s double-cross before my comms died, and went back to the ship.”

Mei blushes from embarrassment. Why hadn’t she anticipated this? Her last two missions have fallen apart, why not this one? But she accepts the canister and gets it installed.

She says, “Your wisdom is welcome, as always, Reeha.” She hesitates. “Pharah, I mean. Why is that so hard.”

Fareeha chuckles. “Perhaps our hearts on our sleeves need a vacation. What is the status down here?”

Back to work. She fills Fareeha in on what’s going on, and Fareeha princess carries Mei so they can double-time back to the conflict zone. Mei uses this time to read the dossier on Dr. De Kuiper.

Brilliant scientist, pushing the limits of gravity and black hole technology. Infused and fractured his mind with the ability to alter gravity in localized areas around him. He disappeared off the grid sometime after that, and Mei is not surprised at all to see him working against his will for Talon. If this scenario ends without them rescuing him, Mei will consider it a failure.

When Mei and Fareeha arrive back at the conflict zone, hell has broken loose. Angela flies in circles, avoiding chunks of stone and metal that the large bald man hurls at her. She is keeping his attention as best she can while Brigitte covers the soldiers that came with Moira. Torbjörn and Bastion attempt to flank the man while Snowball orbits around Torbjörn’s turret, but it’s like Sigma sees around corners and projects shields in midair to protect himself from their volleys.

The man is shouting about the music, the infernal music, that keeps distracting him from his work. Moira is darting around, vanishing in whiffs of black smoke as rocks hurl her way. Their time is running thin, if they truly had only five minutes before execution protocols, and no progress has been made.

Mei says into comms, “Pharah is back, and I have my cryo blaster primed for more. If we are to subdue this man, we must do so without killing him, and that means no rockets, no bullets. If we can get close to him, I can spray him and slow him down.”

“Negative,” Brigitte says, “He is warping the area around himself. If you get close, you get repelled like magnets too close to each other.”

Hmm. “Can we calm him down?” Angela asks. “Reason with him?”

Moira says in comms, which surprises Mei, “We know generally what triggers these episodes, but not how to stop them. Music has helped, but right now he’s yelling about music.”

“Is it possible to contain him and ride it out?” Torbjörn asks.

“We don’t have time,” Mei says. “Does anyone know anything about gravity that we can use here?”

“I have an idea,” Brigitte says, “but it’s not a good one.”

“There are no stupid ideas today,” Angela says.

“Disagree, but go on,” Moira says. 

“Who let her in the comms?” Mei asks, but no one answers and it’s not important.

Brigitte outlines a hasty plan, and everyone thinks it’s awful, but they have less than a minute to do something before they’re all killed.

“Let’s do it, I guess. Torbjörn, Bastion, get into position. Mercy, Moira, act as distractions with the soldiers.” She glances at Brigitte and Fareeha. The idea is hypothetical at best, and could get her and Brigitte injured very badly.

But everyone knows what they signed up for. 

“Proceed,” Mei says. Angela and Moira spread out along two quadrants with Sigma at the center, putting him between them. He is distracted trying to reach them both and yelling insanities, but so far so good.

Torbjörn and Bastion take the other quadrant corners, putting Sigma in the center of all four of them. Blocking him in, but keeping their distance. They fire on him, not intending to hit, but to keep him occupied. 

“Ready, Frostbite?” Fareeha asks, letting her drop in a relative safe zone underneath Sigma. He’s thirty or so feet up in the air, floating and repelling fire and launching gravitic boulders in all directions, but he’s paying them no mind. Mei nods and Fareeha rockets off to Brigitte’s position, flying her into the sky, up and above the combat. She struggles a little with Brigitte’s extra weight from all the armor, but they make do.

Come at him from all angles. Draw his gravity projections in certain directions.

“All in position?” Mei asks in comms. Affirmatives from all angles, and Mei takes a deep breath. “Execute maneuver.”

Everyone who can fly or shift around, like Moira, darts in and keeps Sigma’s attention above ground level. Angela and Fareeha fly in; Moira fades into existence a dozen feet from Sigma, attempting to use her weird life-draining tech on him, but it fails to penetrate his barrier. 

Torbjörn and Bastion take up new positions and they fire as close as they can get to him without hitting the man. An energy barrier erects between them, and keeps it occupied. 

Brigitte, being hauled by Fareeha, suddenly launches forward and down, her flail rocketing out in front of her as she suspends weightless for mere fractions of a second. Mei thinks her part might not need to happen, as it looks like Brigitte’s flail is going to hit the man. Knock him down, knock him unconscious. End this before it escalates.

And then she is repelled. The flail ricochets off nothing, feet from the man’s body. Brigitte, briefly hanging in air, is suddenly launched upwards, away. 

And Mei points her cryo blaster at the ground, cranking the dial all the way to mass dispersal.

Wind rips past her as an icy wall forms under her, so fast she barely has time to reconfigure the blaster for spray before she feels her upward momentum lift her off the wall.

And curiously, another force pulls up on her. Gravity from Brigitte’s upward repelling motion has created a gravity well on Sigma’s opposite side, sucking Mei up into it as she launches the last dozen or so feet up towards the man. Chaos ensues as he screams in fury, comms erupt in calls and cheers, and she aims her blaster at him as she gets within range, suspended momentarily by his gravity.

But when she pulls the trigger, the spray floats out lazily instead of ejecting a wide frost that will slow him down and give the others time to subdue him peacefully.

“Abort!” Mei says, as she feels true weightlessness take her, and she floats in place, as if gravity has no effect on her this close to Sigma.

Dr. De Kuiper, AKA Sigma, glances down with an almost smug boredom. “A good try, but you’ll have to do better if you wish to stop me!”

And with closed eyes, he lifts his arms up, as if conducting an orchestra only he can hear, and Mei bobs up with the motion. And so does everyone and everything within a huge radius of the man. Gravity pulls them into the sky. Cars, Snowball, Bastion, Torbjörn’s turret. Brigitte, launching upwards, reverses direction and plummets. Fareeha and Angela, already skybound and flying, yank around as if they are puppets on string. Moira, attempting to fade away with her strange ability so similar to Reaper’s, finds herself unable to move.

And Sigma smiles. “There,” he says, low enough that only Mei can hear it. He is not watching her right now. “The music will soon stop.”

What does that mean? Mei struggles to think of something, anything, but she’s afraid he’s about to do something drastic like compress them all into a tiny ball of steel and blood.

His fingers flick, and Mei feels gravity reassert itself as he opens eyes and grins. Where before there was madness, there is only shock now as he takes her in, falling.

“Wait,” he says, reaching a hand out toward her as she falls. “Dr. Mei-Ling Zhou? I love your work!”

And yet she plummets to the hard ground below, the others in the sky, and floating debris, and cars dropping with her.


	7. Zwee-ah Weee Doo Woo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Sigma distracted, Mei and her team navigate the minefield that is Sigma's psyche.

The crash never comes. Mei is jerked upwards again, and the objects Sigma levitates float in stasis. All is quiet. All is calm.

Mei registers what Sigma said, then, as her body rotates slowly into an upright position, brought before him in the middle of the air. The rest of her companions are floating helpless. 

“You know me?” she asks tentatively. She doesn’t know what will set him off again, but for the moment the sudden distraction seems to have calmed him down.

“I know your work on climate studies,” he says, holding a gloved hand out, which she shakes. “You and your team in Antarctica provided the initial dataset for my gravimetric experiments.”

“Why?” Mei asks despite herself. What could climatological data have to do with gravity?

He looks around suddenly, as if becoming aware of the situation he’s caused. “Oh. That’s unfortunate. Did I act out again?”

Mei isn’t sure what to say that won’t cause him to lose it again. She opts for, “Your experiment was disturbed by a fire. We were on hand to help put the fire out.”

“Quite unfortunate. I suppose I’ll have to start over.” His eyes widen. “How rude of me!” Everyone lowers to the ground, and all the objects caught in his sphere also ease to the ground and the road. Mei’s knees go weak as she finally touches ground, and she fights to stay upright.

The rest of her team, plus Torbjörn, Bastion, Moira,and her soldiers, settle in a ring around Mei and Sigma.

“You are Dr. De Kuiper, correct?” Sigma nods and Mei smiles. “If you don’t mind my asking, how did you know what I looked like?”

His eyes narrow in concentration. “Did I?”

Moira walks up defensively. “The good doctor has seen some personnel files in his time with us here… at Oasis.”

“That’s right!” Sigma says. “You are listed as a security concern.”

Mei laughs at that as the rest of her companions join her, and Fareeha says, “I bet we are.”

Moira shrugs. “Dr. De Kuiper, it is probably best for everyone if we get you off the street, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes, I think that would be fine. I have to get back to my work. The music must be silenced.”

Music. Mei swears she heard music when Sigma first broke out, but she doesn’t hear anything now. She glances at Angela and nods briefly. “Minister, might I have a word?”

Moira glares at the group, but nods. “Take the good doctor back to his lab, and make sure he has everything he needs.” Her guards salute and escort Sigma away, who is treating them like research assistants. 

Bastion watches them go, and boops plaintively at Torbjörn before the two of them stare at Moira. “If you don’t mind,  _ Minister _ , the bot wants to see to his safety.”

“If you say so. We’ll have that tea after.”

Brigitte whispers, “Permission to go with him.”

Mei looks back at Moira and nods. “If the Minister will allow it, you can go with your father.”

Moira sighs and shrugs. “If you’re wondering if I’m going to hold my end of our bargain, consider it held.”

“Is he a prisoner here?” Mei asks, once Brigitte is gone, and it is just Angela, Mei, and Fareeha with Moira. Standing in the middle of what looks like a warzone, while cleanup crews and emergency personnel swirl around them all. They give Moira a wide berth, though.

“What a silly thing to ask,” Moira says, folding her arms in front of her chest. “We are a research and development technocracy, not some band of brigands.”

Angela scoffs. “You may be that, but I think you can dispense with the notion that you are not also affiliated with a terrorist organization.”

“Please, Angela,” Moira says, grinning, “Your organization would be labeled terrorists if it were to come out that you were performing unsanctioned missions.”

Mei says, “It is a good thing that we are not an organization performing missions, then, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes, we’re all so very innocent,” Fareeha says. 

Moira shrugs again. “I suppose I have to let you finish your research trip unmolested.”

“Really?” Angela asks. “You’re not just going to have us arrested later when this all blows over?”

“Don’t be boring, dear. A double cross is only effective once, and we’re already past that.”

“So we have full access to the library?” Mei confirms.

“Maybe not full, but yes, you are free to browse the archives.”

“Are you just saying this because you know there’s nothing in there for us?” Fareeha asks.

Moira’s arms open wide in a gesture of “who knows” and says, “I have no clue what is in the archives. The entire spectrum of human and omnic knowledge, collected and collated. If we have something you need, then good for you. The trip wasn’t a waste of your time.” She listens to her comms for a moment and says, “Now if you’ll excuse me, Dr. Zhou, I have matters of state to attend. Angela, it has been a deep pleasure catching up with you.”

“I wish I could say the same,” Angela shoots back, “but every time we cross paths I need hand sanitizer.”

This stops Moira in her tracks, and she turns back to the group. She steps in close to Angela and leans in. 

“Do you understand that all your pleas to morality, your calls for ‘ethical behavior’ don’t mean anything? The only morality is progress. The only ethics is what is useful. You stand here and judge me even while you use this staff. This staff that  _ I invented _ for you. Would you care to know how many people suffered so that you could help thousands more?”

Angela’s pale face goes ghostly white, and she swallows whatever retort she had been about to say.

Instead she squares her shoulders and becomes defiant. “Scientific progress shouldn’t have a body count, Moira. That your name could be recounted among the most heinous of human rights violators should give you pause. But I see that it won’t. That it can’t.” She shoulders her Caduceus Staff protectively. “Your results are incredible, Moira. They always have been. But since apparently your conscience has no shame, can I ask you a question?” 

Mei and Fareeha stand by, watching this conversation of slung barbs with fascination. Moira says, “Some other tired avenue of ethics and morality. Go ahead.”

“What is the purpose of progress?”

Moira’s eyes narrow. “Greater achievement is its own reward. Every step we take brings us one step closer to ultimate understanding. There will someday be no need for war, for sickness, for death. The people that follow us will inherit a world closer to perfection.”

Angela smiles, but it’s a hard smile. “So you are doing this for people. You help by hurting.”

“It’s about scale, Angela. It’s the trolley problem. Do you let ten die because you refuse to harm one innocent life? Do you take the life of one because one is less than ten? I take the one every time. A hundred suffer so a thousand live. A thousand die so a million live. The faster we reach the singularity of progress, the faster people stop suffering.”

“So you admit that you do what you do because you wish to help people, and yet you will hurt countless lives in the name of that progress.”

“We can talk in circles all day, Angel of Mercy. At the end of the day, every person you help with that technology is someone that I helped by hurting people.”

“And that you think you have the right to decide who lives, who dies, who suffers, for your progress, is a sad state of affairs. Perhaps you should simply use yourself as a guinea pig from now on.”

Moira stops talking. She waves a hand dismissively, but Mei thinks the woman’s scowl is telling. Something got through just now.

“Minister, if I might?” Mei interrupts. When Moira glares at her, but nods, she fights the urge to blush. “Your methods align with a certain terrorist organization, but your goals do not. It is my understanding that conflict is the key to Doomfist’s plans. That the only way people can improve and live fuller, meaningful existence, they must suffer. They must fight. What you describe is at odds with his stated goals.”

This time, Moira is taken aback. It’s subtle; Moira hides it well, but Mei can tell that her words have had an impact. “I hope that the next time we meet, your methods match your goals and not the other way around.”

Moira reaches a hand out to Mei, and Mei shakes it lightly. “And I hope that your starry-eyed optimism is muted somewhat when you understand the real world a little better.”

They watch her leave, and Mei isn’t sure they’ve had any positive impact. She feels sullied. Like she needs a shower inside her heart.

“You were very brave, or very stupid,” Angela says after they have been left alone.

Fareeha chuckles. “This one is always brave, rarely ignorant.”

Mei blushes now as she heaves a sigh of relief, the tension draining out of her. “How did you work with her for so many years, Angela? It was like being an ant in a magnifying glass.”

Angela shrugs her shoulders, the wings of her Valkyrie suit shivering. She says, “Moira and I have a complicated past, but it is hard to deny that our strengths were complementary and we made up for each others’ weaknesses. We were intimates, once. Closest of friends.” She sighs, almost wistfully, and goes on, “You were close with the Antarctica team, were you not?”

Mei’s breath hitches. She smiles sadly when confronted unexpectedly with her time in Antarctica. “We were a strange family,” she says. Her eyes catch Fareeha’s as she speaks, and her timid smile breaks into a full grin. “But I understand. ‘Opposites attract’ is the saying, is it not?”

They all smile and nod. Overwatch itself is a contradiction of personalities and attitudes, but they all have the common good at heart. They all want what’s best for life on this planet, in whatever form it takes.

“Well,” Mei says, holstering her blaster for what she hopes is the last time today, “we have research to do, don’t we?”

In Sigma’s disturbed laboratory, Brigitte, Torbjörn, and Bastion survey the damage and make sure that this man is not in fact being held against his will. Brigitte stifles the urge over and over to ask her father what he’s doing here, why he’s cavorting with known criminals, why he’s ignored her ever since she and Reinhardt joined the new Overwatch.

Instead, she does her best to gather intel on what Sigma is doing on Talon’s behalf. Though the structures that the scientist works with are familiar in shape and design, Brigitte cannot at all tell what their function is together. Gravity technology. It’s a bit above her paygrade, but she is desperate to get in and tear open these machines. To reverse engineer them. To improve them.

But she is barred from investigating closer. However, she is amused to note, Bastion and Sigma seem to have become fast friends. He talks to Bastion and by all accounts, understands the incomprehensible beeps, boops, whistles, and hums that the bot makes. 

At one point Sigma says, “I believe you could be a great help in my research. You and your little Ganymede. Having your harmonies in place will aid me, no doubt.”

Torbjörn scoffs, but Brigitte knows her father and he is worried suddenly about Bastion.

“What are you thinking, Father?” she asks. 

“I’m thinking that if the bucket of bolts wants to betray us for Talon, good riddance. Terrible experiment, the whole thing.”

“Is that jealousy in your voice?”

“Bah!” Torbjörn says, throwing up his good arm in frustration. Bastion and Sigma glance over at him, and then go back to their supposed conversation. A crazy person talking to a robot who only communicates in beeps, whistles, and hums. She is skeptical that anything productive is going on, but her father is not so sure.

She says, “Despite appearances, I do not not think Dr. De Kuiper--Sigma--is doing anything harmful. He appears deeply unstable and dangerous, and letting Talon have their way with him is probably not the best course of action. Maybe, if Bastion wants to stay, you let it?”

“Like I said, good riddance to the rustbucket.”

“That’s not what I mean. It’s cute how attached you’ve become, but Bastion can be useful to us. It can report back if it finds anything.”

“You want a broken omnic who can’t actually speak to be a spy? You’re crazier than Sigma.”

“I’m quite stable, Mr. Lindholm.” The voice surprises both of them, and they jump and turn to find Sigma and Bastion standing right behind them. “Well, most of the time.” To his credit, Sigma does not look angry or insulted, just mildly annoyed.

Brigitte backpedals, “We didn’t mean you were--”

“Oh, you did. It’s fine. When I’m lucid, I’m quite lucid. They say having a companion, or a pet, is good for mental health. Perhaps your ‘broken omnic’ can provide that for me.”

“It’s not a pet,” Torbjörn fires back. “Though why you want it around is beyond me. Nothing but trouble everywhere we’ve gone.”

“Are you sure you weren’t the cause of all that trouble?” Brigitte asks, nudging her father with an elbow.

“Hey now, I’m not saying I don’t have a temper and a short fuse.”

Bastion boops and whistles and Brigitte almost imagines it is saying, “But I am saying that you do.” She laughs.

“Dr. De Kuiper, we’re sorry your work was interrupted so much. Rest assured that the flames that caused it have been put out, and the worry is over for now.”

“If it wasn’t the fire, it would have been something else, eventually. The fugues happen whether I stay calm or not; they simply appear with more frequency if I am disturbed.”

“Well, we should get out of your way, then,” Brigitte says. “If you can answer one question, we’ll be done here.”

“Yes, yes, on with it.”

“Are you being held here against your will?” Brigitte tenses up after asking it, wondering if she’s going to have to fight the guards that are stationed just outside.

Sigma shrugs. “I’m a prisoner of my own failed experiment. Your name was Brigitte Lindholm, yes? This one’s esteemed engineering daughter.”

“Engineer, mechanic, nano healer, pilot, squire.”

“That’s quite a list of achievements. Who are you squired to, that you are not a knight made whole with all those skills?”

Brigitte fights a quick blush but shrugs it off. “A great man,” she says. “Almost as great as my father.”

“Aww,” Torbjörn says, pulling his daughter into a brief hug. “You don’t need role models anymore, little Brigitte. It’s your turn to be someone else’s.”

Brigitte smiles at that. She’s always felt like she was running to catch up to her father, to Reinhardt, to everyone she’s ever served with. To hear that she’s finally caught up… it’s everything.

“Thank you, Father,” she says in Swedish. “And now maybe it’s Bastion’s turn to stand on its own.”

“Oh, all right,” Torbjörn says, walking over to the Bastion unit. “Listen, gearbox, it’s been nothing but a hassle having you around. If you want to stay with Dr. De Kuiper here, I won’t try and stop you. You’re your own bot, I suppose. Just don’t do anything you wouldn’t already do, okay?”

Bastion hums a sad little tune, and its eye sensors flash rapidly. It goes to stand beside Sigma, Ganymede on its shoulder, chirping happily.

“I wish I knew this wasn’t a terrible idea,” Torbjörn says as they take their leave.

Brigitte puts a hand on her father’s shoulder as they walk, which makes walking difficult given his short stature. “Every creature’s path has a first step. Perhaps this is Bastion’s.”

“Perhaps it is,” he says. “Bwee boo, you circuitboard. Good luck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second to last chapter! Be prepared for a denouement and epilogue next chapter as I bring this story to a close.


	8. Our World Is Worth Fighting For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mei wraps up her mission. Fareeha visits Egypt. Angela reconnects with an old friend. Overwatch looks to the future and a new Strike Commander. This story concludes.

With the research portion of the mission underway, Fareeha stays nearby but doesn’t engage in the research. She instead spends her time on comms, coordinating with the various people in the city and HQ, and keeping a watchful eye. Once again Mei is glad to have brought her along. She may be ready for command, but until then, Mei will always be happy to have her on the team.

Angela and eventually Brigitte split off to go do independent research and meet with academics in their fields of study. Mei spends long hours poring over the digital archives in the university library. She is aware that everything she searches is probably being routed to Moira, and therefore Talon, but nothing much to be done about that. After it starts to get dark, and she yawns and stretches after a particularly deep rabbit hole, Fareeha sets a cup of steaming coffee down in front of her.

She smiles and sits down as well, which is weird to see while in full armor. “It’s not exactly like my mother used to make, but it’s close enough for now.”

“Mmm,” Mei says, taking off her glasses and rubbing her eyes. “I’m sure it is fine.”

“Have a sip, you look like the caffeine will do you good.”

“It most certainly will.” She takes the cup and breathes in the bitter aroma. It is lightly sweetened with something, and has the color of burnt caramel. She blows on it and takes a sip, and the warm brew is a little much for a warm desert night. But it is delicious and radiates warmth from her chest as she drinks.

Fareeha says, “How goes the search?”

“Like finding a needle in a haystack the size of a soccer field. And the haystack might not even have it.”

Fareeha chuckles. “Your use of English idioms is improving.”

“Spend enough time with Tracer and you cannot help but take on the slang.”

“Half of her speech are phrases I need explained,” Fareeha agrees. Mei rolls her neck and shoulders. She’s tense and all the action from earlier has settled into her bones. These are not ideal research conditions, and she rubs a hand over her neck, massaging the tension out as best she can.

“I can do that for you,” Fareeha says, pressing a series of buttons on her control panel on one arm. The gauntlets and gloves come free, and she sets them on the table next to Mei’s physical notes.

“Oh, you don’t have to--” Fareeha rubs a strong hand into Mei’s neck and down to her shoulderblades, kneading the muscles. The tightness almost immediately begins to melt away and she utters a soft moan, involuntary. Then she blushes but doesn’t stop Fareeha.

“Where did you learn this?” she asks instead, eyes closed. Since it is so late in the day, there aren’t many in the university library.

Fareeha plies her hands and forearms along Mei’s neck, shoulders, and upper back. She says, “Staying limber and relaxed in our offtime in the field was an important part of our success. We all took a couple of classes in our leave during basic training, so that we could do this for each other in the field.”

“I cannot imagine my homeland allowing that level of closeness for their soldiers.”

“Nor most militaries. It was something we used to give us an edge, and it required a level of confidence in our unit that is hard to come by.”

“I’m not complaining,” Mei says.

She drinks her coffee and lets Fareeha work on her muscles, and then a ping comes over comms. “Mercy here, I am finished with my meetings.”

“Squire all done as well. Are we here for the night? I’d like to have dinner with my father if possible.”

Mei is about to respond in the affirmative, but Fareeha squeezes on her neck and holds up a hand. She says, off comms, “If we are staying, I have a request as well.”

Mei glances back at her, and rolls her shoulders again to let Fareeha know she can stop. She says in the comms, “I don’t know that we really want to stay in a city at least partially controlled by Talon, but I am not done here yet. So I think we must.”

“We can sleep in shifts on the dropship,” Fareeha says in comms.

Brigitte says, “Excellent. When you’re done with us for the night, let me know and I will meet you at the dropship later.”

“Acknowledged. Frostbite out.”

Fareeha sits back down, clipping her gauntlets and gloves back into place. “A good decision, leader.”

“It’s the most obvious one. What is this request?”

“Just that I would like to head to Egypt after this mission concludes. We’re so close, relatively speaking. I have some personal business to attend to, and I would like to see my mother, if possible.”

“Have you heard from her since Atacama?”

She shakes her head. “If you could call that hearing from her even then, but no. We pass messages, of a sort, to let the other know we are safe, or when we will be in country. She and Jack spend a lot of time on the road, as do we.”

“So she’s there right now?”

“It would seem so. May I break from the mission when we head home, and go to Egypt?”

“I see no reason why you can’t leave tonight, if you would like,” Mei says. “I think we did something that affected Moira, and she is going to honor her agreement now.”

“After the mission is fine.”

“Suit yourself.” Mei sighs and turns back to her virtual console. “Thank you for the coffee, Reeha. I mean Pharah.” She scolds herself, but Fareeha only smiles.

“You’re welcome, Mei-Mei. I mean Frostbite.” She stands and goes back on lookout duty.

It takes another hour, and the library is well and truly empty by then, but she finds something. It may be nothing. But it may be everything.

It’s a link between the region of Atacama, the Southwestern United States, and India, three of the places where anomalous heat spikes have been recorded. She has to trace the data back through climatological patterns and weather data, and she doesn’t have any of that here, but she thinks based on her memory that this could be it.

It all leads to Vishkar Industries and their ramping up of hard light cities. Could there be a provable link between their technology and the global warming? She thinks there might be.

She hastily scribbles down notes and records the data, then requests hard copies sent back to the HQ. She approves the transfer of funds to make the hard copies, and gathers up Fareeha, who looks bored and tired.

“We are done here,” she says in comms. “Pharah and Frostbite heading back to the dropship.”

“Mercy checking in. Already here.”

“Squire heading to dinner, then.”

“Comms open even while off-duty,” Mei reminds everyone, and she receives affirmatives.

The dropship is where they left it, and it takes some doing to get back up to it without Fareeha flying. Once they reach the Oasis HQ building, Mei wonders if Moira does indeed have another nasty trick up her sleeve, but they are escorted back to their ship without hassle.

“I will take first watch if you would like to get some sleep,” she says to Fareeha and Angela, who both nod tiredly. While they head for the tail end of the dropship, Mei strips her gear down to just the tank top and trousers, setting them aside in the cockpit for ease of access. Snowball, fully recharged now, darts about excitedly until it realizes they are just on night watch, and settles into a routine of patrolling the various windows that look outside. Mei puts on the pilot’s headset and connects to their comms system.

“HQ, come in, this is Frostbite.”

“Zinj here, I heard you had some trouble with a capital Talon.”

“Nothing we couldn’t talk our way out of. I’m preparing a data packet that I need to correlate with my previous data sets from other missions. Can you stage it all for me and let it run? I’d like the processing to be complete by the time we get home.”

“Fruitful search?”

“I have a hypothesis, but I don’t want to say anything until I’ve had a chance to verify. But yes, I think we shall all be eating apples.”

“Repeat, Frostbite. What about apples?”

She frowns. Did she mess up the idiom? “Apples are fruit. It was a fruitful search.”

Silence for a moment, and then Winston laughs through comms. “That’s not really how it goes, but I like it. Yes, hopefully we’ll all eat apples. I’ll get the peanut butter ready.”

Winston loves his peanut butter.

“How did the mission go otherwise? I hear Torb made an appearance.”

Mei sighs. She gives Winston the quick rundown, knowing she’ll be fully debriefed later. When she completes the rough timeline, he snorts. “How are you this unlucky with your research missions?”

“I’m beginning to think it is not a coincidence, Zinj.”

“No, you may be right. Is there anything you can think of that might have compromised our intel?”

“They have a master hacker; I wouldn’t put it past them to know everything we do before we do it.”

There’s silence as Winston takes that in. In the silence, something Sombra said flashes through Mei’s mind. “Actually, I think it’s probable, Zinj. Pharah and I have nicknames for each other, and Sombra called me by mine when we clashed in the desert.” 

“Hmm. We will run some diagnostics before you get back, maybe figure out how she’s doing it. You did well given the circumstances, and it even sounds like you gave our dear Moira something to chew on.”

“I hope so. She plays a dangerous game, and even if her reason for doing it is ultimately good, a lot of bad happens to get there.”

“Well, I’ll get your data processing, Frostbite. We’ll see you soon.”

Mei disconnects from HQ and yawns, then goes to make coffee. If Sombra is in fact spying on them, Mei thinks it is unlikely they will figure out the how of it. They haven’t even been able to understand what she did to Mei’s cryo blaster, or Winston’s tesla cannon. 

In the main chamber of the dropship, the deployment deck, Angela has retrieved a cot from the prep area, but is watching some old Overwatch footage on her wrist’s holo screen. It appears to be of her and Moira hard at work in the lab, arguing but enjoying each other’s company. She drops the screen when she notices Mei, and yawns.

She says, “Fareeha has more to heal than most; I figured I’d let her have the prep room to herself.” Mei’s shoulders slump. She can hear Fareeha’s light dozing from here. The woman can snore. “You’ll be fine for a couple more hours, just stretch often.”

Mei nods, looking out the large door’s shaded glass at the warped structures beyond. “Today was a strange day, wasn’t it?”

“It was certainly unusual. You held your own against Moira very well, do you know that?”

“I felt like she was constantly criticizing me with just her eyebrows.”

Angela chuckles. “She’s good at that. But really. I’ve never seen the woman so much as blink when we would have our ethical arguments. I think you really did say something that affected her.”

“You said you were close before.”

Angela stands and stretches before coming to stand beside Mei, looking at nothing. “I did.”

“Was she like family to you?”

“You’re speaking of your relationship with Fareeha, are you not?”

“Was I?”

Angela hesitates. “What Moira and I had was a rivalry. We pushed each other, challenged each other, complimented each other. Where I saw failure, she saw a path not to take. Where she saw a waste of time, I saw the reason for it. That is not what you and Fareeha are building.”

“I could never hope to keep up with her on the battlefield.”

Angela nudges Mei with a shoulder. “You sell yourself short, first of all. You have done incredible things in these missions of yours.” Mei blushes, and Angela continues. “You have a mind for tactics. You see the shape of a mission, and know all the pieces on the board at your disposal. Fareeha does the same. You compliment each other in different ways. Yours is not a rivalry, but a support system. The sum of the whole is greater than its parts. Do you know this saying?”

Mei nods. “Our skill sets form a venn diagram, and in the overlap is how we help each other.”

“And what is outside of it. You are a fierce combination after only three missions. Imagine if you continue for years. You could be completely unstoppable.”

“Team Rocket Pop,” Mei says, referencing the name they were given on her first mission. “I don’t hate it as much anymore.”

Angela pats Mei’s shoulder. “In a way, I’m jealous. A rivalry is fine, but to have that kind of simpatico is rare.”

“The new Overwatch is young. Perhaps we just haven’t recruited your other half yet.”

“Perhaps.” Angela smiles sadly. “Perhaps they are out there, putting their demons to rest.”

That sounds very specific to Mei, but she doesn’t pry. Angela yawns again and Mei smiles. “Go get some rest. Snowball and I will keep you safe.”

“Nothing to fear with Snowball on the case.” And Mei realizes she hasn’t seen Snowball in a little while. She pings it on her cryo pack, but it registers as sleep mode. Curious, it’s not in its cradle on the pack. She looks around while Angela lays back down on her cot, and the lights dim.

Mei can’t see it anywhere in the deployment deck or the flight deck, and she creeps up the metal stairs to the prep deck, where Fareeha still snores a little bit. At the top of the stairs, Mei peeks in to the prep deck, where their gear is stored and their lockers are located. And cradled in Fareeha’s arms on her cot, is Snowball, in sleep mode. Not even a useful sleep mode, just there. Mei smiles, though. Even her little robot companion thinks highly of Fareeha.

Mei lets them alone, goes back to the flight deck, and continues her watch. Eventually Brigitte shows up on the video feeds outside the ship, humming softly and happily. She comes up to the flight deck and drops into the co-pilot’s chair. “Anything to report?”

“Nothing specific,” Mei says, yawning and stretching again. It has been a long day and she is ready to nap. The city of Oasis doesn’t appear to sleep, like any big city, but up here it glitters like stars in the sky. “Good visit with your father?”

“It was.” Brigitte smiles a little. “You don’t expect to run into family this far from home, especially when he’s always traveling around anyway.”

“Did you find out why he was here?”

“Not to meet Moira, though I guess they did meet anyway. He and Bastion were here looking for black market omnic parts from the Omnic Crisis. It’s hard to keep a bastion unit in good repair, when they don’t produce new ones, it turns out.”

“Hmm. And now Bastion is staying with Dr. De Kuiper?”

“I’m not even going to pretend to understand that relationship dynamic. My father has always hated omnics because of the damage they caused, but he’s got a soft spot for this one.”

“Is that a thing we want to let happen?” Mei asks.

“We can’t really do anything to stop it. Moira’s snarky doublespeak notwithstanding, we have no evidence and no jurisdiction here. And Bastion is… a unique case.” Brigitte shrugs. “I’m just glad my father’s putting it behind him. He’s been in such a weird mood; maybe now we’ll see him home more often. I’m sure my mother would appreciate it.”

Mei nods in thought. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to do much in the action today.”

Brigitte says. “Getting arrested will do that. We nearly had Sigma, though. I got a good look at his tech, too.”

“Do you think you can reverse engineer any of it?”

“Who knows, but I bet Johann would prefer to be antigrav cat rather than jetpack cat.”

They laugh at the silly joke, and Brigitte stands. “All right, fearless leader. I’ll take over. I’m wired from visiting with my dad. You can take a nap.”

“Thanks, Brigitte. Wake me if there’s trouble.”

“Oh! I almost forgot. I found this in the market on the way back.” She pulls a small object from her back pocket and flicks it to Mei, who catches it and laughs. It’s the Bokimari patch, brightly colored and representative of the Lunar New Year. 

“This is becoming a thing, isn’t it? Three missions, three Pachi patches.”

“You have a keepsake for every mission that way. Cuts heal, scars fade, bones mend. Pachi is forever.”

Mei chuckles quietly to herself as she goes to get some sleep.

Fareeha left her suit with the dropship, and waved goodbye to Mei and the rest of the team. They dropped her off in Egypt and she promised to be back in a couple of days.

Fareeha follows the directions her mother left with her once upon a time. How to find her when they were both home.

Well, they are both home, and Fareeha is nervous as she walks the path that will take her to Jack and her mother’s base of operations. It’s a low rent affair, in that it seems to be a squatter’s hut in the slums.

As she nears it, she sees the Eye of Horus, pointing her on the way. It is midday, and she almost wishes for cover of darkness. She has the feeling that if her mother knows she is coming, she will disappear again. They have communicated since Fareeha found out her mother was alive, but she has yet to see her, or hear her voice.

She reaches an open doorway down a long warren of traditional Egyptian homes, deep in the slums. Her mother should be just on the inside.

And she smells it. A warm cup of  _ saiidi _ . She steps to the threshold of the home, and peers inside. There is not much here, but inside is a portable stovetop, and on that stovetop is a teakettle. Standing behind it, Jack Morrison, deep shadow of an unshaved face, holding a cup and blowing out the steam.

Fareeha’s shoulders slump. He smiles warmly and waves a hand for her to come inside.

“I wasn’t sure I would see you here,” she says. “Uncle Morris.”

“It’s good to see you too, little one. Not so little I guess.”

“We saw each other months ago, you know.”

He grunts. “Old habits. Do you want some tea?”

She comes inside now, and he’s wearing very ordinary clothes. None of the tactical armor, no visor. He looks like someone’s grandpa on vacation in the desert.

The building is sparsely furnished, with two pallets in opposite corners for sleeping, an area rug intricately woven of fine reds and yellows. The portable stove, and some supplies. She stares around, hoping to catch a glimpse of her mother. But she’s not here.

She accepts the cup of  _ saiidi _ from Jack, and smells deeply of it. It does smell just like her mother used to make, and she takes a cautious sip, preparing to be disappointed.

And is not. It’s perfect. She is instantly transported back to the Overwatch HQ in Switzerland, when her mother would make it for everyone after a hard mission, and Fareeha would be twelve years old, asking for stories and snacks, not necessarily in that order.

A voice from behind her, muffled, says, “I thought we might be seeing you today.”

Ana Amari. Wearing her Bastet mask. She slowly removes it, and Fareeha looks upon the face of her mother for the first time in many years. Her hair is almost white. Her face is weathered. Her remaining eye is as brown and sharp as ever. 

Fareeha throws herself at her mother,  _ saiidi  _ forgotten. She cannot contain the tears. 

“I know, ‘ _ umri _ , I know. It has been far too long.” She holds her mother, and her mother holds her. It is a deep, tight embrace, and though it has been many years, they slot together perfectly. She breathes in the scent of her mother, and though it is not quite the same, it is so close as not to matter.

Jack excuses himself. This is no place for an outsider.

It takes a long time, but eventually Fareeha lets her mother go. She holds her at arm’s length and just takes her in.

“I didn’t know what I would do when I finally saw you again, Mother.” She wipes at her tears, and Ana holds a hand out to the counter where her  _ saiidi  _ is cooling. 

“I am glad you chose to hug me. I deserve far less.”

“You had your reasons.” She lets herself be guided to the counter, where her mother refreshes her cup and hands it over, then pours another for herself.

“Perhaps, but it is my only true regret in this life that I did not come to you. That I did not make it right.”

“It was a difficult time for everyone.”

“I have been making excuses ever since I left, dear one. I am through with that. Difficulty should not breed abandonment.”

“I wasn’t a child when it happened, Mother.”

“But neither were you ready to stand on your own. I am sorry, Fareeha, for all that you suffered while thinking me dead.”

Fareeha shakes her head. Hearing that is going to have long ramifications, but right now she isn’t concerned with that. “Can I ask you--why did you flee in Atacama without at least saying hello?”

Ana sighes and drinks her  _ saiidi  _ to buy time. She says, “We had to give chase to Reaper. Gabriel is dangerous, and we are going to put him down.”

“Have you considered trying to help him?”

She looks down. Her fingers tighten on her cup. “He doesn’t want our help. None of them do. Amélie blames us for what happened to her, too.”

Fareeha thinks for a moment. “Widowmaker.”

Ana nods sadly. “She may have a greater claim to us than any. Her life, her husband, was utterly destroyed in the pursuit of knocking Overwatch down. And most of us are still here. Overwatch lives again. It must set her cold fire burning.”

Fareeha places a hand on her mother’s. “We could talk past sins for a long time, but I would rather speak of past joys.” And so they do.

When Jack finally returns, they are laughing, resting on Ana’s pallet in the far corner, and Fareeha stands and throws her arms around him.

“Mother was just telling a story about you, Uncle Morris. Come, join us.”

He smiles uncomfortably, but acquiesces. “Which story is your mother lying about now?”

Ana says, “The one where you dropped your biotic field into the toilet.”

Jack laughs. “Did you tell her how the building exploded, throwing off my aim?”

“Most men brag about their aim at the toilet,” Fareeha jokes, and they erupt into more laughter.

This goes on for a while, swapping the good war stories, the funny, the charming. Eventually Fareeha gets serious and stands. “I wouldn’t mind doing this for much longer than I have time for, but I have something I want to talk to you about.”

“Should I leave again?” Jack asks.

“This is for both of you. And any of the other old guard you may be in contact with.”

Ana stands now, too. “If you’re going to ask us to come back, I think you know we cannot do that.”

Jack grunts. “That part of my life is over, Fareeha.”

“I’m not asking you to sew the patch onto your gear,” Fareeha says. “But if you’re after Talon, we’re going to run into each other again. Whatever it is that Mei is searching for, Talon is after it, too. Or protecting it. We’re not sure, but it could have serious ramifications for whole regions of the world.”

“You’re really part of the team, aren’t you?” her mother asks. Her single eye holds something that isn’t quite pride, but isn’t disappointment either.

“Would you believe a starry-eyed climatologist convinced me of the need for Overwatch again?”

“Mei-Ling Zhou,” Ana says. “I would believe it. She was in over her head, but never gave up and came through for us all. Just because she was a junior scientist in the old Overwatch doesn’t mean she hasn’t faced her own crucibles to get where she is today.”

“That name’s familiar,” Jack says. “But I can’t quite place it.”

“She was on the Antarctica project before everything went to hell,” Ana says.

He stares at the floor, grimacing. “Damn. When this is all over, someone should send their team on a warm vacation.”

Fareeha shakes her head. “I suppose you wouldn’t have heard. No one could retrieve them when Overwatch fell and disbanded. They were presumed dead for years, and no one had the funding to go check. Mei is the only one who survived, and she doesn’t talk about it.”

His eyes widen as she talks, but the surprise doesn’t last long. For a man like Jack Morrison, who thinks he owes the universe a debt that cannot be paid, this is just one more tally on a sheet. “There’s no end to the people we failed, is there?”

Ana says, “She’s a remarkably resilient woman. Most would have given up and died, but she invented a whole new technology and is still fulfilling her mission. In her own way, she’s like us, Jack.”

Fareeha says, nodding, “She’s why I’m here. Her path is scientific, but in her way stands governments, corporations, terrorists. We ran into Moira in Oasis, and she’s very much with Talon now.”

They glance at each other, and Fareeha wishes she hadn’t said anything. They’d probably go after her, if Talon is their objective.

“I did not tell you this so you could rush off and get killed. She has an entire city under her heel. What I want from you, what Overwatch needs, is a promise that you’ll come if we call.”

They both open mouths to protest, but Fareeha won’t have it. “The world is in danger. You two are uniquely capable of helping. I’m not asking you to reveal yourselves, or put your old uniforms back on. Just… when I call, come. I think we’re far too close to a conflict, and Mei is capable, but she’s not ready to fight a war.”

“And we are?” Ana asks.

“We’re never done fighting,” Jack says. “If Talon… if Reyes is going to be involved, then so will we.”

“We have unfinished business, and if that requires us to come out in the open, so be it,” Ana agrees.

Fareeha nods again, not sure if this is a real success, but taking it nonetheless.

“Good. Now I have to catch a flight in the morning, so get your cards out, Uncle Morris. You’ll find I’ve gotten significantly better at poker.”

There isn’t much time for a proper debriefing when Mei and the team arrive back at the HQ in Vancouver. Winston oversees the loading of supplies into their second dropship. 

Angela and Brigitte take their leave, chatting with Baptiste, Lena, and Reinhardt, who are all preparing to go on mission with Winston.

He says, when she goes up to him, “Mei, I’m inclined to believe you have either very good fortune, or very bad.”

“I’m going to lean towards good. Despite the missions never going as planned, they always end in a positive place.”

He nods and smiles. “Good. How long until Fareeha gets back from her leave?”

“She wasn’t sure. A couple of days at most, though.”

“Good. There are things I need to talk with everyone about. Once we’re all here.”

“What’s your mission?”

He signs a manifest for supplies loaded, and then pulls her to the side. “It’s a bit of a dummy mission, to be honest. We didn’t find anything in our sweep for Sombra’s hacks, but if Talon somehow messes this up for us, we’ll know they’re listening. The real mission is not the one I have told anyone else, or logged.”

“Smart.” She is curious, though. “What is it that you need everyone here for, Winston?”

He glances around to make sure no one else is within hearing. “It’s an organizational thing. I’m not really cut out to be Strike Commander, Mei.”

Her gut churns as he says this. Suddenly all the missions and help he has given her may have a different meaning. “You’re stepping down?”

He sighs. “I’m going to be the face of Overwatch. I’m well-placed for it. I was still kind of new when Overwatch fell. People knew who I was, but I was a novelty. A talking ape who liked science and peanut butter. I can be that, to take the edge off. But I won’t have time to coordinate missions, run teams. I need someone else to be the Strike Commander.”

“Winston, I’m not--” They talk over each other.

“I was hoping to have more time to prepare you, but--”

“I don’t want to be Strike Commander,” she blurts out. Her hands wring together nervously. This is not happening.

He stares at her, then chuckles. “I wasn’t going to ask you to be.”

Her relief is sharp, and her heartbeat slows. “Then what--”

“I was going to ask your opinion on who I should approach. Lena or Angela both have the experience and familiarity. Brigitte is capable but probably not prepared for command.”

There is only one recommendation Mei can think of that makes any kind of sense, and she voices it. Winston nods along as she talks.

“I’m glad you think so. And I do have plans for you. We’ll talk when I get back, okay?”

Mei nods, and Winston departs with Tracer, Baptiste, and Reinhardt.

Without her friend around, Mei begs off post-mission celebration with Angela and Brigitte, and opts instead to dive into her research. She sits at her workstation, Snowball buzzing around playfully and chasing dust motes, and runs numbers. Checks the data that she had Winston process.

And she verifies it. Each location she has gathered data about localized heat spikes, there is a Vishkar Corporation “smart town” along the weather band, pushing higher temperatures along the wind currents. India, Mexico, Rio de Janeiro. They’re implementing their hard light tech in more locations than ever, despite the bad press they received several years back in Rio de Janeiro.

It’s strange, though. The light bending tech has been independently verified by dozens of researches, and has been concluded to be safe for humans, omnics, other life, the environment. What is Vishkar doing that would be causing this localized spike that spreads? She must collect more data, and she starts by contacting Vishkar itself.

When she reaches an automated system, she leaves a message asking to talk about anomalies in the light bending tech, and searches for individuals within the company who might be able to help her. But the names of anyone at Vishkar save the CEO are hard to find. They seem to be scrubbed from the net.

And the day passes without any acknowledgement from Vishkar that she ever requested information. She finds a directory listing for press and follows that, but the person on the phone stonewalls her, saying that Vishkar is not giving interviews under any circumstances right now.

And to make matters even more mysterious, her holo screen beeps seconds after she disconnects from the unhelpful Vishkar associate. Unknown contact.

She answers, but there is no video feed attached to the sound that comes through.

A thick, female Indian accent says, “You are drawing the kind of attention to yourself that you likely do not want.”

“Hello?” Mei responds, unsure. “Who is this?”

“You may call me Symmetra. You are Doctor Mei-Ling Zhou, and you represent an unsanctioned group poking about where they should not. If you are not careful, there will be swift retaliation.”

“Are you threatening us?”

“It is not my threat. If you continue to seek out Vishkar and their plans, you may unravel something that cannot be mended.”

“With all due respect, Symmetra, that is what we do here. If Vishkar is doing something wrong, and it very much seems like they are, we will find out. We will shine a light where they would keep it in shadow.”

“Poetic,” Symmetra says, then sighs. “If you persist, then you do forewarned. I hope I do not see headlines lamenting your death before you accomplish your mission.”

Before Mei can respond, the feed cuts and she’s alone once more. She’s definitely kicked an ant hill, of that she is very certain. Now if only she could find the others who want to do the same.

Later this same day, there is some commotion as Winston and his team return, and with them are several new faces. Angela meets them in the loading dock as they land, anxious for the new arrivals.

Echo, the omnic they had been after at Jesse McCree’s request but lost the trail, steps off the dropship. Following her are Genji Shimada and Hanzo Shimada. One is former Overwatch, the other is former criminal. Both are famous, or infamous. And finally, floating down in a seated position, is an omnic that Angela doesn’t recognize. He appears to be a monk of some sort.

When Genji steps off, Angela walks to him, stomach full of butterflies. His cybernetic augmentations are scuffed and worn, but she places a hand on the cheek of his metal mask.

She says, “I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again.”

“Sometimes the wheel turns, and sometimes it does not. Today, it seems, it turns.” WIth that cryptic message, he puts a robotic hand over Angela’s. “I am finally prepared to move forward. And I’d like to introduce those who are ready to move forward with me.”

He holds his other hand out to the monk omnic, who floats over and tilts a head. “This is Zenyatta. He has helped me see the futility of struggling with the nature of one’s self, even as it changes.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Dr. Ziegler,” Zenyatta says in a tinny but magnanimous voice. “Genji tells me that you are responsible for the augmentations he has been blessed with.”

An eyebrow raises on Angela’s face. “Blessed?”

“Those are his words, now.”

“They weren’t always, but I am glad to hear it.” She glances at Genji, whose face is unreadable beneath his mask, but his head bobs slightly. “If you and Echo would go with Winston, I’m sure he can get you settled.”

“That would be very nice, Dr. Ziegler. I look forward to learning much from you.”

“And I you,” she says. The omnics go off with Winston, while Lena, Reinhardt, and Baptiste stay behind with Genji’s older brother.

Genji says, “And this is my brother, Hanzo. He is here to help.”

“Reformed criminal,” Hanzo says, stepping forward and bowing to Angela. “It is my understanding that you helped keep my brother alive after I was so foolish all those years ago.”

Angela shakes her head. “It was a group effort, but I suppose. He has not always viewed the help as he does now.” She’s relieved, of course, but she hadn’t expected to ever see him again, and Genji is an example of her work done for the wrong reasons, even if they yielded positive results after so long.

Hanzo nods, and glances around. “I hope to be of use as Overwatch rebuilds. Perhaps it can be better even than it once was. With my little brother, it can only improve.”

Mei and Brigitte introduce themselves as these old friends and new faces take it all in. And if Angela isn’t mistaken, Mei very much blushes around Hanzo, and Hanzo cannot take his eyes from her. They are an unlikely match, but then, Overwatch is an unlikely group. It grows in unexpected ways. It thrives when it should be dead.

Fareeha returns, surprised to see all the new faces. And with her return, Winston calls an organization-wide meeting. 

Mei finds Fareeha before the meeting and sits down with her, as the others are assembling. She wants to give Fareeha a warning, but there might not be time.

“I have many things to tell you,” Fareeha says. “My visit was stressful, but necessary, and I have nothing but good news. But first, so many new faces. Winston was busy.”

Mei nods. “I think it was his proof of concept for why he called this meeting.” She leans in and whispers, “He’s resigning as Strike Commander.”

“Really?” Fareeha asks, genuine surprise in her voice. “Why?”

“He wants to concentrate on being the face of Overwatch. I think he is announcing his choice to take his place.”

“Oh?” Fareeha’s voice is light, pretending at nonchalance, but Mei knows her well enough by now to know that there’s an undercurrent of uncertainty. “Do you know who he is promoting?”

“I have an idea,” Mei says, “And I think you’ll approve.” She smiles, and realizes that if Fareeha takes that wrong, Mei will seem like she’s gloating. “Just wait. You’ll see.”

And everyone gathers. Winston stands before them all, on the ramp to the dropship in the loading dock, the only place they have room to gather for speeches. There are maybe two dozen here, all told. Doubled in size in mere months. Old members, new faces, fresh blood. Starry eyed volunteers ready to make the world a better place.

And Fareeha looks sick to her stomach. She took it wrong, Mei thinks. That’s unfortunate.

“Thank you all for coming,” Winston says, gaining everyone’s attention. Mei glances around at the assembled faces. Winston and Reinhardt, stout and protective; Angela and Baptiste, healers with hearts of gold and steady hands; Lena and Fareeha, warriors and soldiers; Brigitte and herself, engineer and scientist; Echo and Zenyatta, unknown quantities; Genji and Hanzo, seeking redemption and enlightenment. All the rest of the support staff, volunteers. Good people, all. It’s not Overwatch, but it’s not far off.

Winston continues, “As you all know, we have been operating under the radar for a while now. We are not legitimate; not yet, but thanks to the missions we have performed thus far, I believe we are ready to present our case.” He stares around. “We have been gathering intel, collecting allies, tracking our enemies. We are close to having proof that there are things going on in this world that transcend nations and borders. Events moving that cannot be stopped if we all squabble separately. Overwatch was a global peacekeeping and relief task force. We will be that again. We will earn the public’s trust, and we will serve the world.”

Some light calls from those assembled, but Winston holds up a hand. “We are at a precipice right now. Overwatch needs a strong Strike Commander, to hold the line when all seems lost.” He glances at Reinhardt, who swells with pride. “It needs a smart Strike Commander, to see the enemy when they think they are hidden.” He glances at Mei, and she blushes, avoiding his gaze. “Most of all, Overwatch needs an experienced Strike Commander, who has seen victory and defeat, who can lead our soldiers in ambush or retreat.” He chuckles. “I, uh, didn’t mean to rhyme that.” Some chuckle along with him.

“I can’t be that Strike Commander.” Surprised murmurs float around the room. He ignores them. “My talents are going to be focused on invention, on opening doors, on being the public face when we are legitimate once more. To that end, I am stepping down, effective immediately, and I am going to nominate a successor. The person I think would serve us best hasn’t been with us long, but has proven themselves steady, loyal, capable. They have strong ties to the past and to the present. They have seen combat and made tough decisions.” 

Oh, Winston, Mei thinks, you’re laying it on thick. Just tell her already.

Winston stares around the room, and his eyes settle on someone near to Mei. “I nominate Fareeha Amari as Strike Commander.” Many eyes turn to look at Fareeha.

Mei watches Fareeha’s eyes go wide in shock and hears her breath catch in her throat. Mei stands and raises a hand. “I second the nomination. Fareeha has been a wonderful mentor as I led missions, and her stalwart defense of Overwatch’s goals are truly inspiring.” She smiles at Fareeha and places a hand on her shoulder. Fareeha grins like a fool.

Winston clears his throat. “Nomination accepted. First, Fareeha, would you come up here?”

Fareeha stands and walks numbly to the ramp Winston stands on. She’s not wearing her armor, but she’s in combat fatigues, which she zips up as she goes. Her eyes are terrified but determined.

Once she stands beside Winston, he asks, “Do you accept the nomination for Strike Commander, Fareeha Amari?”

She swallows the lump in her throat and nods. Then says, “To follow in the footsteps of the greatest leaders would be my greatest honor, Winston. If you all accept me, I will be your Strike Commander.” Mei’s heart swells and she hopes no one offers themselves up for a second nomination.

No one does, and Winston holds Fareeha’s arm up. “Then let’s all welcome Strike Commander Amari!” 

Though there’s only a couple dozen in attendance, Mei would swear there were hundreds based on the cheers and applause. Fareeha wipes at a slight dampness to her eyes, but overall she stands stalwart and ready. This is her moment. Her time to shine. Her every youthful wish fulfilled.

Mei couldn’t be happier for her friend. 

It is some time later, after all the official designations have been changed, and Winston has handed the reins to Fareeha officially, that Mei sees her again. It’s getting on midnight, and Mei is preparing her report for Winston on Vishkar Corporation’s activities. Snowball darts off the table suddenly, and makes several little excited beeps. When Mei glances over, Fareeha is rubbing its little metal head as it bounces happily around her. 

“Congratulations, Strike Commander,” Mei says, standing and saluting.

“Ugh, this is going to be even harder than before, isn’t it?”

“We will make the friendship thing work, even when you’re commanding me in the field.”

“I have no doubt of that, Mei-Mei, but I have a request first.” Fareeha sits on a stool opposite Mei and motions for her to sit, too. Snowball bounces between the two of them.

“If you want to borrow Snowball, you can have it, the little traitor,” Mei jokes, and Snowball’s digital readout turns red and steamy as it bumps into Mei’s shoulder several times. She pats it and says, “I’m only kidding, goofball.” The little bot settles and boops happily again.

Fareeha says, “I need something like Ministers. Science, Medicine, Tactics, Social. People who will keep me grounded and cover my inexpertise in all things non-combat.”

Mei is surprised to hear this. There were heads of divisions in Overwatch before, but nothing so official as a Minister. “Like Oasis?”

“I got the idea from there, but you’re my first choice, Mei-Mei. Do you want to be my right hand science lady?”

She gasps. “Not Winston, or Angela, or Brigitte?”

“Winston’s got his place. Angela will head up Medicine, and Brigitte’s going to be my Master of Invention. If they want to. But I need you to advise me on matters of science. What do you say?”

The Minister of Science in Overwatch. Mei was terrified when she thought Winston was going to ask her to be Strike Commander, but this is something else. She can do a lot of good in that role, and stay close to Fareeha. 

They may not get to go on missions like they have been, but their friendship will be less strained. They can support each other. Fight for each other. Balance each other.

“I would like that very much, Strike Commander.”

Mei stands and hugs Fareeha. Fareeha kisses her cheek and hugs her back fiercely. “We have a lot of work to do, Mei-Mei.”

Epilogue

_ Entry 56 - March 3rd, 2076 _

_ Things are moving faster than we anticipated. Once my research was complete, Strike Commander Amari asked Winston to schedule a meeting with the United Nations. We are headed there, now, to make our case against Vishkar and ask for Overwatch’s future. If it goes well, we could be made legitimate once more! _

_ I admit I’m nervous. We have a lot to do. So much. Even if we can prove Vishkar is doing something wrong, it may not be enough to stop them. We have allies and enemies everywhere we turn. We have Talon to deal with. And knowing what Vishkar is doing to our environment doesn’t magically fix the damage they caused. Tensions are rising everywhere. _

_ Maybe someday, the world won’t need Overwatch. They won’t need a super intelligent ape shielding them. They won’t need a disgraced Crusader to fight their battles. Or a former terrorist patching their wounds. Or a scientist who survived Antarctica to protect their environment.  _

_ But until that day comes, we will be here. _

_ Overwatch will be ready. _

_ Because our world is worth fighting for. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry to anyone who was reading this, that the story ends when things were just getting started. I have to move on to new projects, new worlds that don't make my heart hurt every time I sit down to write. I will love Mei and Overwatch, even though I can't support it anymore. 
> 
> Thank you for reading this over the last year, for going on this journey with me about a cute, shy scientist pushed to be a leader, to overcome her fears, and to be a beacon of hope in a dark world.


End file.
